The old temple among the mountains

The temple courts with grasses rank abound,

And birds throng in the forest trees around!

But pilgrims few, though tablets still remain,

Come to the shrine while revolutions reign.

The mice climb through the curtains full of holes,

And thick dust overspreads the 'broidered stoles;

The temple pool in gloomy blackness lies,

To which the sleeping dragon sometimes hies.