The Inn at the Western Lake

Wang Ching-seng

The inn leans against the mountain’s root.
The smooth skin of the water shines,
And the clouds slip over the sky.
This is the twilight of dawn and dusk.
On the top of Hsi Lung
The hill priest sits in the evening
And meditates.
Two—
Two—
Those are the lights of fishing-boats
Arriving at the door.