At night, in my dream, I stoutly climbed the mountain.
Going out alone with my staff of holly-wood.
A thousand crags, a thousand valleys –
In my dream journey none were unexplored
And all the while my feet never grew tired
And my step was as strong as in my younger days.
Can it be that when the mind travels backward
The body also returns to its old state?
And can it be, as between body and soul,
That the body may languish, while the soul is still strong?
Soul and body – both are vanities:
Dream and waking – both alike unreal.
In the day my feet are palsied and tottering;
In the night my feet go striding over the hills.
As day and night are divided into equal parts –
Between the two I get as much as I lose.
Po Chü-i, Poet and Government official.
Chinese (772-846 A.D)