Seventy two peaks, thirty four caves, twenty four streams
     sixteen springs, five “seas,” two lakes, and two waterfalls,
All have beautiful names.
Above the peaks, the sea clouds of Huangshan, the celestial
     home of gods and immortals made numerous poets famous.
Down in the misty valley the tea plants grow,
Heavenly brews fit for celestial dwellers.
Up on the slopes pines stretched the welcoming pine,
     twin exploring pines, harp pine, towering pine, farewell pine….
     resplendent from the cracks and the palatial crags,
     ghostly in moonlight, lustrous in snow,
     against the sea of clouds, the smoke of rain, the spring haze,
     and foliage in the fall.
All were unsurpassed by an unseen songstress who hid in the pines
     and sang the first four notes of Auld Lang Syne, a foreign tune.
Its clear, sweet, and melancholy twirl kept me company as I climbed
     down the winding stone steps along a silent brook.
At the end of the trail, a crystal clear pond with reflections of clouds
     whiter than the ones in the sky, and the pale shadows of mountain      azaleas weaving in them appeared.
The nameless bird of Huangshan kept on singing until she became           inaudible as I reached the Peach-Blossom Stream, a hot spring
     at the bottom.
Her ancestors knew how parting was and passed the farewell notes
     onto her through blood.