The waterfall shines between the rocks;
The lake beneath is a mysterious entrance
Into the depth of Mother Earth's womb.
The eager torrent rapids forwards
At the foot of the cliff -- even the spirits
And gods take a sip from its ice tonic water.

The Semi-finished sphere of the heavens
Reflects the moon's profile, not full face.
Deep piety seizes my running of the Path;
Anxiety interrupts my putting to flight --
I've lingered here, sitting at throat of gorge.

The daylight starts to dazzle all around;
My shabby hut is bathing in the rays. . .
Once I learn to get in and out without effort,
What sort of hindrance can interrupt me
From opening a door to every single soul?

From now on, my long-term retreat
On these high mountain peaks
Needs to be approved in the lower world.