From ten thousand valleys the trees touch heaven；

　　On a thousand peaks cuckoos are calling；

　　And， after a night of mountain rain，

　　From each summit come hundreds of silken cascades.

　　……If girls are asked in tribute the fibre they weave，

　　Or farmers quarrel over taro fields，

　　Preside as wisely as Wenweng did……

　　Is fame to be only for the ancients？