The Fairview Temple stands supreme, / With winding stone steps long and steep.
Lofty ridges crouch like tigers grim, / Ancient cypress boughs like wild geese skim.
Halls and towers brave the rigid breeze, / Terraces and courts by vast airs seize.
Misty blooms greet the emerald tiles, / Cloud-like leaves veil the carved walls' styles.
Of old, the magic arts were known / To match the sun and moon's bright tone.
Ascending, they followed Huang-Lao's way, / Illustrious were the Yin and Wang, they say.
They gathered herbs from cliffs so fair, / And brewed elixirs with fragrance rare.
From caverns, colored clouds would rise, / Up to the azure vault of skies.
Traces of old remain today, / All say their truth does not decay.
Tablets bear the Han and Wei's trace, / Statues from Qi and Liang find place.
Immortal steeds have frosty hair so clean, / Young cranes with snowy plumage preen.
Wealthy merchants offer incense fire, / Poets vie in verses of desire.
I hasten to the hall with pace, / Seeking truth in a quiet space.
I read inscriptions on green jade, / And grasp secrets in manuals laid.
If one can join the dragon and tiger's might, / He'll surely ride the phoenix in flight.
He'll fix his dark jade pendant's string, / And straight into the cloud-land wing.
Yet I recall those seeking light ascent, / Whose tales of folly bring merriment.
Lord Li refined the cinnabar stone, / Han Zi ingested sulfur alone.
They wished with the South Pole Star to stay, / But soon in Beimang's tomb they lay.
A warning shines through ages past, / Elixirs must be used with care steadfast.
To ward off age, is there no way? / To soothe the soul, a different sway.
No need for silks, both fine and plain, / Just raise a cup of wine, clear and sane.