You’ve arrived at last beneath the jagged peak
of Spotted Mountain, ancient as the locals here.
You know it’s the end – there’s nothing behind,
only the portentous wind screeching with birds.
If there’s a sound that you’d take with you
to the ultimate kingdom of silence,
it’s this nightly song of the wind urging the sea
to embrace the rocks defending the shore.
If there’s a key that you’d take with you
to the gate of the shadows’ kingdom,
it’s the nightly whisper of the wind that sways
the willow to caress the side of the stream.
Before clouds arrive from the western ridge,
mumbling in a language older than thunder,
you grasp the thorns above the crusty rocks
and unlock the gate of the shadow’s kingdom.
Oh, the stillness of the road before you,
and the endless distance from here to there!