有山昔飞来，神怪安可测。
万壑鼓风雷，千岩为羽翼。
胡为忽移徙，到此无倾侧。
灵越得奇峰，瑯琊失遗迹。
烟云随而至，杉篁古所植。
如何草创时，躺作瞿昙宅。
闻之有苾𫇴，岁久苦刓刻。
凿声响深崖，火烬淬层壁。
平为土木基，蔑有苍翠色。
金粟千亿身，窣堵百余尺。
回廊尽复叠，寸地无闲隙。
一聚红尘中，万瓦青烟羃。
成彼有为善，斯可长太息。
我试来寻山，山形俱变易。
方念此崭绝，安得如往昔。
不谓山之足，下落言偃室。
知是骞翥时，于兹堕岩石。
屹尔画疆畔，其谁敢侵蚀。
随宜得形胜，触目见崷崒。
小桂结沈阴，清露有疏滴。
巾履日可赏，琴樽雅成饰。
多谢对幽岑，亦足开烦臆。
若在祇园间，岂更存余碧。
有一座山昔日飞来，神怪之事怎能测度？
万壑之中风雷鼓荡，
千岩成为它的羽翼。
为何忽然迁移，
来到此地不再倾斜。
灵越之地得到这座奇峰，
琅琊却失去了往昔的遗迹。
烟云随之而来，
杉树和竹子是古时所植。
为何在草创之初，
就被当作佛寺的基址？
听说有僧侣，
长年辛苦镌刻。
凿击声在深崖回响，
淬火的灰烬染上层壁。
平整成为土木的地基，
再无苍翠的颜色。
金粟般的佛像千亿之身，
佛塔高达百余尺。
回廊完全重叠复沓，
寸土之地也无闲隙。
一处聚在红尘之中，
万片瓦上青烟笼罩。
成就那有为的善功，
这却令人长声叹息。
我试着来寻访此山，
山的形貌都已改变。
正感叹这山势崭新而绝异，
怎能如同往昔一般？
不料山的山脚部分，
下落到了言偃的居室。
可知是它飞翔之时，
在此处坠落岩石。
屹立着划出疆界，
谁敢来侵蚀它？
随地而得形胜之美，
满眼所见都是高峻的山峰。
小桂树结成浓荫，
清冷的露水稀疏滴落。
头巾和鞋履每日可供玩赏，
琴与酒樽雅致成为装饰。
深深感谢面对这幽静山岑，
也足以排开烦闷的心绪。
若是在祇园精舍之间，
难道还能存留剩余的碧色吗？
A mountain once flew here, who can fathom such divine might?
Ten thousand valleys drum with wind and thunder in their plight.
A thousand cliffs serve as its wings, a formidable sight.
Why did it suddenly shift, to this place, steady and upright?
Lingyue gained this wondrous peak, a marvel in the light.
Langya lost its ancient trace, vanished from mortal sight.
Mists and clouds followed in its wake, a veil both soft and white.
Firs and bamboos, planted long ago, stand in the fading light.
How, in its raw beginnings, was it made the Buddha's site?
I heard of monks who, year by year, with carving tools did fight.
The chisel's sound echoed through deep cliffs, both day and night.
The forge's embers tempered layered walls, burning bright.
Leveled to form a base for wood and earth, a common blight.
Gone was the lush green hue, the natural verdant height.
A billion golden grains of Buddha, statues shining bright.
Stupas rising a hundred feet, piercing the sky with might.
Winding corridors fold upon themselves, a labyrinthine flight.
Not an inch of ground lies idle, in this constructed rite.
A gathering of red dust, the worldly, bustling site.
Ten thousand tiles beneath blue smoke, shrouded from clear light.
To build such active merit, some may think the deed is right.
Yet I can only heave a sigh, prolonged and deep, at this sight.
I came to seek the mountain, its form now altered quite.
Its shape has wholly changed, no longer pure and bright.
Just as I mourn this sheer and severed, solitary height,
How could it be as in the past, in its primordial might?
Little did I know the mountain's foot, descending in its flight,
Came to rest where Yan Yan's chamber stood, in scholarly delight.
I know when it soared and hovered, in its majestic flight,
It was here it shed these very rocks, in its celestial plight.
Towering, it marks a boundary, a formidable line in sight.
Who would dare encroach upon this steadfast, guarded site?
It finds a fitting, splendid form, a victory in the fight.
Wherever the eye can see, rise peaks of rugged height.
Small cassias weave a deep, cool shade, a refuge from the light.
Clear dew forms in sparse, slow drops, a pure and gentle rite.
Cap and sandal are fit for daily strolls, a simple pleasure right.
Lute and winecup grace with elegance, a cultured appetite.
I give great thanks to this secluded cliff, for easing my mind's blight.
It is enough to open my vexed heart, to let in tranquil light.
If it were within the Jetavana grove, so holy and so bright,
Would any remnant jade-green hue remain within our sight?
对自然奇观的敬畏，体现了古人对未知世界的认知局限。
描绘飞来山的神异来历，表达对自然造化与未知力量的敬畏。
本诗为五言古诗，押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理