Far, far, the mountain path is steep
Thousands of feet up,
The pass is dangerous and narrow
On the stone bridge the moss and lichen green
From time to time, a sliver of cloud flying
Cascades hang like skeins of silk
Image of the moon from the deep pool shining
Once more to the top of Flowering Peak
There waiting, still
The coming of the solitary crane.

– Shih Te (c 730)