Empty hills, no one in sight,
only the sound of someone talking;
late sunlight enters the deep wood,
shining over the green moss again.

No one is seen in deserted hills, Only the echoes of speech is heard. Sunlight cast back comes deep in the woods, And shines once again upon the green moss. | Translated by Stephen Owen | On the empty mountain, seeing no one, Only hearing the echoes of someone's voice; Returning light enters the deep forest, Again shining upon the green moss. | Translated by Richard W. Bodman and Victor H. Mair

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