The Sichuan Road
What heights!
It is easier to climb Heaven
Than take the Sichuan Road.
Long ago Can Cong and Yu Fu founded the kingdom of Shu;
Forty-eight thousand years went by,
Yet no road linked it with the land of Qin.
Westward from Taibai Mountain only birds
Wander to the summit of Mount Emei
But not until brave men had perished in the great landslide
Were bridges hooked together in the air
And a path hacked through the rocks.
Above, high peaks turn back the sun's chariot drawn by six dragons;
Below, the charging waves are caught in whirlpools;
Not even yellow cranes dare fly this way,
Monkeys cannot leap those gorges.
At Green Mud Ridge the path winds back and forh,
With nine twists for every hundred steps.
Touching the stars, the traveller looks up and gasps,
Then sinks down , clutching his heart ,to groan aloud.
Friend, when will you return from this westward journey?
This is a fearful way.
You cannot cross these cliffs.
The only living things are birds crying in ancient trees,
Male wooing female up and down the woods,
And the cuckoo, weary of empty hills,
Singing to the moon.
It is easier to climb to heaven
Than take the Sichuan Road.
The mere telling of its perils blanches youthful cheeks.
Peak follows peak, each but a hand's breadth from the sky;
Dead pine trees hang head down into the chasms,
Torrents and waterfalls outroar over rocks,
Booming like thunder through a thousand caverns.
What takes you, travelers, this long, weary way
So filled with danger?
Sword Pass is steep and narrow,
One man could hold this pass against ten thousand;
And sometimes its defenders
Are not mortal men but wolves and jackals.
By day we dread the savage tiger ,by night the serpent,
Sharp-fanged sucker of blood
Who chops men down like stalks of hemp.
The City of Brocade may be a pleasant place,
But it is best to seek you home.
For it is easier to climb to heaven
Than take the Sichuan Road.
I gaze into the west, and sigh.
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