Through the rocks of the Mount Tai, 
Is the Eighteen Turns Path, 
A long, long stair, 
With thousands of steps. 
I stand in front of the path, 
Looking up, 
And up higher, 
To the end of the path, 
It's so high, like the sky, 
It's so far, like another world, 
That's where the South Gate of Heaven lies. 

It's a beautiful morning,
Standing on the Jade Emperor's Peak,
Clouds are gathering under my feet,
Mountains, are like islands,
Floating in the sea of cloud.
Toward the east,
The sky turns pink,
Then orange,
Then golden;
The sun, peeking from her windows,
Spreading her shining glitters,
Over the sea of cloud.

Deep into the mountain,
I hear the water,
Falling from the high;
Splashing through,
Axe hacked rocks;
Rocks are cold,
Hard,
Lifeless.
However,
Lichens, red like a fire,
Relaxing on the highest rocks;
Pine trees,
Standing on the most forbidding cliffs,
Waving their hands. 

The lake,
Is like a mirror;
No wind,
Leaves, watching us quietly,
Birds, whispering in trees,
Frogs, murmuring in fog;
Through the fog,
Mountains are looming.

Walking in the woods,
I hear,
The songs of Minnehaha,
The laugh of water,
Calling me from deep in the woods.
Following her voice,
Through the path,
I came out of the woods,
and discovered,
This suddenly clear, open space,
Water,
Running from the mountain far beyond,
Splash through dark rocks,
Washing moss down to the lake,
And,
Spraying mist into my nose.
Trees are damped,
Rocks are greened,
And the mind is refreshed.

• Artist: Weiming Zhang
• Type: Traditional Chinese Painting
• Style: Colorful Scenic