How lofty the cloud-capped peak, / A few rods from the sky.
Below, a lush and splendid grove, / Where silent Zen monks stand high.
I roamed at dawn's first light, / The sea sun shot through my staff and hood.
No need for a flying canopy's shade, / Each step a screen of pines, old and good.
The mountain monks knew I would come, / In rows like wild ducks they stand.
Leading two attendants along, / They expound the truth, profound and grand.
A kind of stringless zither's tone, / A voiceless chant, thrice sighed, is known.
Opening the window to southeast view, / A thousand miles in glance, high and low.
Westward I climb the Terrace Sublime, / Desiring this vast expanse to know.
Land severed, marshes round the hill, / Misty waves merge with clouds, distant and still.
Perhaps six giant turtles linked as one, / Penglai Isles fallen in wilderness vast.
Or maybe a whale diving into the sea, / Its back a green ridge, in shadow cast.
Now the fierce fire of heat prevails, / Metals and stones would melt in blaze.
In a moment, clouds and rain transform, / Making a mighty wind, strong and bold.
Turning hands, cool autumn returns, / Stirring a thousand woods, tales untold.
Who says it's the Water Palace spared? / Truly, the divine dragon's lair is there.
If the Three Hermits could be sought, / I'd visit the Five Lakes with care.
Wash feet in the great flood's heart, / Shake dust on the lone peak, apart.
Send word to those of strife and greed, / Be content, forget and be freed.
Chanting long may serve as song, / Treading moonlight through the open, vast and long.