莊子 is the name of Zhuangzi or Chuang Tzu (369-286 BC).

Like Laozi or Lao Tzu, he was a Daoist author, poet, and philosopher.

雪萊 is the surname Shelley in Chinese (Mandarin).

This version is most often used for the surname Shelley as opposed to the given name. Used for people such as the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley.

信唸是在黎明前的黑闇中能感到光明的鳥 is a philosophical poem/quote from Indian Poet and Philosopher, Rabindranath Tagore.

Rabindranath Tagore, 1915

This quote is not sourced, and therefore several variations exist in English. Some suggest the original was in the Bengali language.

This, of course, is the Chinese translation that has the meaning of, “Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.”

More about Rabindranath Tagore

This poem was written almost 1200 years ago during the Tang dynasty.

It depicts traveling up a place known as Cold Mountain, where some hearty people have built their homes. The traveler is overwhelmed by the beauty of the turning leaves of the maple forest that surrounds him just as night overtakes the day, and darkness prevails. His heart implores him to stop, and take in all of the beauty around him.

First, before you get to the full translation, I must tell you that Chinese poetry is a lot different than what we have in the west. Chinese words simply don't rhyme in the same way that English or other western languages do. Chinese poetry depends on rhythm and a certain beat of repeated numbers of characters.

I have done my best to translate this poem keeping a certain feel of the original poet. But some of the original beauty of the poem in its original Chinese will be lost in translation.

Far away on Cold Mountain, a stone path leads upwards.
Among white clouds, people's homes reside.
Stopping my carriage I must, as to admire the maple forest at nights fall.
In awe of autumn leaves showing more red than even flowers of early spring.

Hopefully, this poem will remind you to stop, and “take it all in” as you travel through life.
The poet's name is “Du Mu” in Chinese that is: .
The title of the poem, “Mountain Travels” is:
You can have the title, poet's name, and even “Tang Dynasty” written as an inscription on your custom wall scroll if you like.

More about the poet:

Dumu lived from 803-852 AD and was a leading Chinese poet during the later part of the Tang dynasty.
He was born in Chang'an, a city in central China and the former capital of the ancient Chinese empire in 221-206 BC. In present-day China, his birthplace is currently known as Xi'an, the home of the Terracotta Soldiers.

He was awarded his Jinshi degree (an exam administered by the emperor's court which leads to becoming an official of the court) at the age of 25 and went on to hold many official positions over the years. However, he never achieved a high rank, apparently because of some disputes between various factions, and his family's criticism of the government. His last post in the court was his appointment to the office of Secretariat Drafter.

During his life, he wrote scores of narrative poems, as well as a commentary on the Art of War and many letters of advice to high officials.

His poems were often very realistic and often depicted everyday life. He wrote poems about everything, from drinking beer in a tavern to weepy poems about lost love.

The thing that strikes you most is the fact even after 1200 years, not much has changed about the beauty of nature, toils, and troubles of love and beer drinking.

八風不動 is the short version, popularized in Japanese Zen Buddhism, of the original Chinese phrase 八風吹不動.

Literal meaning: “Unmoved by the Eight Winds”

The origin is Chinese, but it was later adopted into Japanese Zen. Here’s a little backstory:

The original famous anecdote is from Song Dynasty China, involving the poet-official 蘇東坡 (Su Dongpo / Su Shi, 1037–1101) and Zen master 佛印 (Foyin).

Su Dongpo wrote 八風吹不動，一屁打過江
“The Eight Winds cannot move me; Yet one fart blows me across the river.”

Foyin’s irreverent reply exposed Su Dongpo’s ego, which is kind of a classic Zen teaching story.

This is the most common Chinese character which sounds like “Lee” or “Li” and is used as a surname / family name in China.

李 actually means “Plum.” So it's really Mr. Plum and Mrs. Plum if you translated the name instead of romanizing.

This is not the only character in Chinese that can be romanized as “Lee” or “Li.” If your family name is “Lee” or “Li” please be sure this is the correct character before you order this scroll (look at your grandparents' Chinese passports or other documents if you are an ABC and are trying to create a heritage wall scroll).

Famous people with this surname include Bruce Lee (Li Xiao-Long), Minister Li Peng, and famous Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai. In Korea, this is the original character for a surname that romanizes as “Yi.”

Note: This also one version of Lee that is a common Korean surname. However, it’s often romanized as "Yi" and sometimes as "Ri" or "Rhee."

八風吹不動 is an ancient Buddhist phrase from about 1000 years ago.

Literal meaning: “The Eight Winds cannot move [me].”

The original famous anecdote is from Song Dynasty China, involving the poet-official 蘇東坡 (Su Dongpo / Su Shi, 1037–1101) and Zen master 佛印 (Foyin).

Su Dongpo wrote 八風吹不動，一屁打過江
“The Eight Winds cannot move me; Yet one fart blows me across the river.”

Foyin’s irreverent reply exposed Su Dongpo’s ego, which is kind of a classic Zen/Chan teaching story.

There is a shorter Japanese Zen version, 八風不動, which drops the middle character. Often romanized as happū fudō. The romanization of 八風吹不動 is arguably happū fukedomo ugokazu or happū sui fudō.

During the Tang Dynasty, a man named Jia Dao (born in the year 779), a well-studied scholar and poet, went to the capital to take the imperial examination.

One day as he rides a donkey through the city streets, a poem begins to form in his mind. A portion of the poem comes into his head like this:

“The bird sits on the tree branch near a pond,
A monk approaches and knocks at the gate...”

At the same time, he wondered if the word “push” would be better than “knock” in his poem.

As he rides down the street, he imagines the monk pushing or knocking. Soon he finds himself making motions of pushing and shaking a fist in a knocking motion as he debates which word to use. He is quite a sight as he makes his way down the street on his donkey with hands and fists flying about as the internal debate continues.

As he amuses people along the street, he becomes completely lost in his thoughts and does not see the mayor's procession coming in the opposite direction. Jia Bao is blocking the way for the procession to continue down the road, and the mayor's guards immediately decide to remove Jia Bao by force. Jia Bao, not realizing that he was in the way, apologizes, explains his poetic dilemma and awaits his punishment for blocking the mayor's way.

The mayor, Han Yu, a scholar and author of prose himself, finds himself intrigued by Jia Dao's poem and problem. Han Yu gets off his horse and addresses Jia Bao, stating, “I think knock is better.” The relieved Jia Bao raises his head and is invited by the mayor to join the procession, and are seen riding off together down the street, exchanging their ideas and love of poetry.

In modern Chinese, this 反復推敲 idiom is used when someone is trying to decide which word to use in their writing or when struggling to decide between two things when neither seems to have a downside.