Taoist Priest, Down the Mountain

One fit of rage for a beauty, one fit of rage to cleave the firmament.

A smile as I watch the world, a smile as I speak of all things beneath heaven.

Ask who in all the world does not know your name; look, the changing seas and shifting fields are but a dreamlike haze.

The past is like the wind, fallen leaves return to their roots.

Spring departs, autumn arrives, flowers fill the sky.

A disciple of the Dao, playing in the mortal world. Fearing neither the firmament nor the open road, I roam far and wide.