Lingling's rocks and streams are famed under heaven,
The wonders of Mount Dan are hard to fully tell.
First from the cliff's mouth descending to earth's depths,
Then halls and towers appear with gates that swell.
Now I know this cave is the most unique and rare,
Inside, gold and jade open a sacred garden fair.
Wide and level, it could seat ten thousand men,
Looking up, it's like an upturned basin then.
Empty brightness suits the morning sun's first ray,
In gloom, dark clouds often gather and delay.
Coiling dragons droop with stalactites below,
Huge beasts and massive rocks in crouching show.
A fragrant wood-clove clings to the rocky wall,
Where human steps are sheer and cannot climb at all.
Immortals fly to roam and here their offerings make,
Often riding whirlwinds on cloud-chariots they take.
I came just as spring rain cleared and skies were bright,
Haze dispersed, warm sunlight bathed the scene in light.
Yawning twin caves open halfway to the sky,
Seeming to engulf all things that wander by.
I wonder if Chaos's seven orifices remain,
Five lost, two left, in this primordial domain.
Magical traces not yet wiped away by time,
Still show axe and chisel marks, in stone they climb.
Cloud-like beds and stone screens in deepest recess hide,
Where once a hermit dwelt, in seclusion to abide.
Avoiding Qin, he scorned the summons to appear,
His fair name entered the stream of worthies clear.
In Xiantong era, it was a den for two snakes,
Yuanchang preached Dharma, and the snakes left their makes.
Since then a Buddhist temple rose within this ground,
Secluded, worldly noise no longer to be found.
Alas, this scene long buried, out of sight,
Only with simple souls in barren Zen's light.
Cishan and Zihou loved landscapes, as is told,
Exploring hidden depths from dawn till dark and cold.
The morning sun crowds close as if to prison take,
Bald stone corners stand like shaved heads awake.
Their bold poems boasted more than truth could hold,
Praising common stone as jade, a tale too bold.
Circling, craving to possess each precious view,
Not reaching the best spots, heaven's grudging due.
I sigh, arriving here, stunned by what I see,
No time for praise, just awe and mystery.
Regret no mighty prose to match this strange display,
My fondness roughly matches those two, I'd say.
My crude words I'd carve upon the rocky face,
Lest time erodes them, leaving not a trace.