There is a jade tree I have encountered

On the top of the Frozen Mountain—

It came into the world before all woods

Were set alone. It exceeds all ancestors

By twice in age; its knotty roots are curved

And twisted by ground waters and stones

Are transmuted by steady frost and winds—

Everyone laughs at its ugly outside—

So decayed, withered and worm-eaten,

And nobody cares of its innate elegance

That a piece of jade grants us upon engraving.

When the bark all is done falling away,

What remains is perfectly simple and clean,

Like a drop of pine tar timed into an amber

To become a gem in ten million kalpas.