Poems of Meng Jiao
Red medlar vine by the well
Long silver chain runs down the brickwork.
High leaves seem to hold up the clouds.
This vine doesn't choose just any tree.
It desires only the company of immortals.
Its careless shadows seem to dot the moon.
It splits the wind into a thousand whispers.
Child sprouts run down the ravine where
A floating fragrance arrests the traveler.
Here flowery cups bid you stop and drink
With this heavenly, almost immortal, elder.
Unlike most Tang poems where the natural subject is a veiled symbol of something else, Meng Jiao, with this poem, simply celebrates this ancient towering vine.