North of Mount Jiuhua, east of the rapids,
Rocks loom perilous, winding and steep.
Who now sails this expanse of ten thousand acres?
Since Yu first cut the channel, how many years have passed?
Its depths are dark and fathomless,
Where tiny waves rise into rippling circles.
People dwell in rows of houses on the islets,
Towering walls rise skyward, touching the heavens.
Embracing the bluish hues of several towns,
Mingling gold and jade from center to border.
Alas, my journey falls in scorching summer heat,
The long road stretches far, twisting and turning.
Dust clouds blur my vision, dimming my sight,
My weary horse stumbles, my servant grows thin.
Then someone appears in a small boat,
Parting the lotus leaves, coming straight toward me.
He takes my sleeve, invites me to go with him,
Wishing to carry me up to become an immortal.
With you I’ll fish in the clear, empty waters,
Where fish mingle with dragons, and algae gleam green.
With you I’ll bathe in the deep, serene pools,
Where mournful winds rise and autumn waves swell.
With you I’ll wander the craggy cliffs,
Startling gulls and ducks that flutter in panic.
With you I’ll gaze into the vast, hazy distance,
Where mist drifts like smoke, now seen, now gone.
The waters flow on, entering the sea at last,
I ask how long this journey—thousands of miles?
Pointing to Penglai, a hair’s breadth away,
There dwell Anqi and Wo Quan, the immortals.
Purple shell towers and pearl palaces,
They smile at the dusty, humble mortal world.
Drinking the night dew, dining on magic fungus,
Why not rise lightly, shed the cicada’s husk?
Alas, my life has been one of hardship,
Treading flat ground yet rushing through rapids.
My heart still burns bright, ever present,
I long to cast off my sandals, leave this human realm.
Green maples age, about to turn crimson,
Dew lies thick and heavy, the mountains grow cold.
Where shall I return as dusk descends?
I entrust these thoughts to the south of the river.