The writing of Li Po-hai Is like the vermilion bird And the blue-green dragon. It drifts slowly as clouds drift; It has the wide swiftness of wind. Hidden within it lurk the dragon and the tiger. The writing of Chia, the official, Is like the high hat of ceremonial. It flashes like flowers in the hair, And its music is the faint, sweet tinkling Of jade girdle-pendants. But I stand beside the Lang Temple, Doing nothing And speaking not at all.