Amid the layered cliffs I divined to live—

Just paths of birds and no laymen's traces.

What’s there inside of my unfenced courtyard?

Thick clouds embraced the rocks around my shelter.

I am staying here for a solid number of years,

And that big number is what makes me tarry

At the foot of these cliffs. . .

Viewing the alternation of years and seasons,

I’ve learnt the way of melting the silver of winter

Into the autumn gold.

I’d also appeal to all those who have possessed

The means of authority, saying, “Big money

Is what possesses you entirely to serve it,

Instead of the other way round.”