Looking For A Monk And Not Finding Him

by Li Bai

　　up a hill valley, finding there

　　a temple, its gate covered

　　with moss, and in front of

　　the door but tracks of birds;

　　in the room of the old monk

　　no one was living, and I

　　staring through the window

　　saw but a hair duster hanging

　　on the wall, itself covered

　　with dust; emptily I sighed

　　thinking to go, but then

　　turning back several times,

　　seeing how the mist on

　　the hills was flying, and then

　　a light rain fell as if it

　　were flowers falling from

　　the sky, making a music of

　　its own; away in the distance

　　came the cry of a monkey, and

　　for me the cares of the world

　　slipped away, and I was filled

　　with the beauty around me.

　　Li Po