Journey through Myriad Paths

Lush grass overgrows the earthen mound;
A thousand years may bury the bones, but not the shame.
The world today is rife with eyes and ears,
Yet how many truly possess the clarity to see?

Heaven blinds the eye to spare the heart its sorrow,
Yet mortals persist, insisting on the sight.
The dazzling affairs of the world are hard to fathom—
Beyond Mount Wu, how many autumns fade?

The chronicles record but a few lines of names,
While Mount Beimang holds countless desolate graves.
The lands of the old are seized by the new;
Such is the end of all dragon struggles and tiger fights.

Just behold: Heaven and Earth endure forever.
Ten thousand streams rush the ravines—vying to be first, fearing to be last.
Yet the whisper comes: “The myriad daos are endless, and the journey spans the ages.”