Tai Shan

High on the sacred mountain

Up the seven thousand stairs

In the golden light of autumn

There was magic in the air

Clouds surrounded the summit

The wind blew strong and cold

Among the silent temples

And the writing carved in gold

Somewhere in my instincts

The primitive took hold

I stood at the top of the mountain

And China sang to me

In the peaceful haze of harvest time

A song of eternity

If you raise your hands to heaven

You will live a hundred years

I stood there like a mystic

Lost in the atmosphere

The clouds were suddenly parted

For a moment I could see

The patterns of the landscape

Reaching to the eastern sea

I looked upon a presence

Spanning forty centuries

I thought of time and distance

The hardships of history

I heard the hope and the hunger

When China sang to me