Green grass spreads through Changsha's domain,
Dongting Lake stretches vast and far.
At its northwestern corner lies,
Cloud-Dream Marsh, boundless as the sky.
Then there is White Lake, broad and wide,
Its misty expanse spans miles untold.
Not just a den for bandits bold,
But where divine dragons took hold.
In Xinsi year at White Lake's shore,
A serpent fell, dead, coiled no more.
One scale large as a winnowing fan,
One whisker thick as rafter's span.
White body, azure mane and crest,
Two horns reaching toward heaven's breast.
Half its body on sand lay bare,
Half still submerged in waters there.
The village head reported fast,
Officials came, devoutly cast.
Rites were held to dispel the ill,
Crowds gathered, watching, filled the hill.
Mats were spread to cover its form,
For miles the fishy stench was borne.
One night of thunderstorm passed by,
The creature vanished from the eye.
Its trace sank down, a stream now flows,
Where large ships can freely go.
That year the Tartar Bright came near,
To meet his death by river's pier.
Some say the First Emperor's sign,
Strange and eerie, by no design.
Recently from Shanyang side,
Gatherers of water caltrop ride.
They saw three dragons floating high,
Eyes like lightning flames in the sky.
Often the tail is all they see,
Rarely the whole form, full and free.
One dragon alone is a wonder,
Three together, rarer under.
Again by Fisher Lake's expanse,
From water's face rose smoke by chance.
Out of the smoke a donkey came,
Circling with a limping frame.
Soon it vanished with thunder's roar,
No way to ask what was in store.
Hearing this tale, I took my boat,
To see the marvels there afloat.
Straight to the withered reed marsh I went,
Where egrets vied, on intent bent.
The lake holds Liu Bei's temple grand,
Guarding the vast, watery land.
Pacing, I found nothing in sight,
Returned by oar in moon's clear light.