A cliff face. Another. And still a third.
Who was so skilled to carve this craggy scene:
the cavern's red door, the ridge's narrow cleft,
the black knoll bearded with little mosses?
A twisting pine bough plunges in the wind,
showering a willow's leaves with glistening drops.
Gentlemen, lords, who could refuse, though weary
and shaky in his knees, to mount once more?
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Comments1Man, Ho Xuan Huong really knows how to paint a picture with words! That part about the "cavern's red door, the ridge's narrow cleft, the black knoll bearded with little mosses", made me feel like I was there, 'xploring the mountains! The whole poem makes you appreciate nature even if you're not outdoorsy. Props to Ho Xuan Huong for making me want to get off my couch and mount those cliffs!