English Rendering
Ascending from the west the PeakS now-White,
Not till the sun goes down I reach its height.
The snow-white MorningStar teIls me to wait
Until he opens the Celestial Gate.
I wish to ride cold wind and floating cloud
To touch the moon and dwarf all mountains proud.
But once I left behind the Western land,
Could I return to the summit where I stand?
