Climbing up a mountain
On the grassland, climbing up a mountain.
At the foot of the hill, desire always exists;
crossing boundaries from one edge to another,
moving from one group of people to the next.
Climbing up a mountain, rubbing a mirror.
Some weight is set down in exchange for a song.
Conversations unfold at the same elevation.
Nothing is accumulated—only traces remain.
They call this place a club; we call it paradise.
