In the mountains, all is pure, all is calm,
all complication is cut off.
Rare are they who know how to listen,
happy they who possess wisdom.
One pauses on high ledges,
one climbs to the high clouds,
one sits in the depths of a gorge,
one pauses in windy grottos.
Here is the realm of harmony and joy,
where the past and present become eternal.
-- Hsieh Ling-Yun (385-433AD)
I stumbled across this poem on Roger Ebert's Journal.