Fly low, vermilion dragon,
With the moon horns.
Fly down to the top of the mountains
That I may climb into your saddle
And twist a bridle of mist about your great muzzle.
Fly low, vermilion dragon,
With claws bright with stars.
I will climb the dark pagoda of a pine tree
That I may swing astride your brilliant scales
And be carried into the heart of the West,
Through a golden haze
Over the great regions of the sea
Into Cathay.
Fly low, vermilion dragon,
With the moon horns!
