Listening to the Waterfall (Shi yai ting quan),

ca. 1658–60

In this mountainscape a solitary figure sits on a rocky ledge above a cascading watercourse; across the ravine, lofty trees rise in quiet seclusion. The turbulent noise of the running water echoes throughout the deep chasm formed between the cliffs and hangs like a black mist in the center of the painting. The merging of sight and sound in this painting is activated by the artist’s poetic inscription: Looking up I see rocky cliffs; bending down I hear rushing water. The mountain trees are tall and prominent; the valley flowers burst
forth in brightness. The call of a yellow bird [pierces] the myriad layers of gray mist. Those with tranquil hearts can walk on undaunted; [and having passed, they can] enjoy this place forever. This picture of solitary communion with nature depicts all of the images mentioned in the poem—except the yellow bird, whose visual absence is remedied by its piercing call, which resonates through the painting after one reads the poem.