So my neighbor has built a wall that runs before his
door. Windows of course he has none.
He cannot see his vegetable garden, and his toilet pots,
and the dirty canal.
But he is quite safe!

Wusih


The Most-Sacred Mountain

Space, and the twelve clean winds of heaven,
And this sharp exultation, like a cry, after the slow
six thousand steps of climbing!
This is Tai Shan, the beautiful, the most holy.

Below my feet the foot-hills nestle, brown with flecks
of green; and lower down the flat brown plain, the
floor of earth, stretches away to blue infinity.
Beside me in this airy space the temple roofs cut their
slow curves against the sky,
And one black bird circles above the void.

Space, and the twelve clean winds are here;
And with them broods eternity--a swift, white peace,
a presence manifest.
The rhythm ceases here. Time has no place. This
is the end that has no end.

Here when Confucius came, a half a thousand years