The cave mouth of Liaoyang, where winds and mists are fair, / Dead trees, jagged and bare, prop up the cloud-crowned isle.
Layer upon layer, golden locks encircle the fair maiden, / Fallen petals carpet the ground, forever left unswept.
They say the gallant Xiao has mounted the phoenix and flown, / Leaving behind only the nine-times refined elixir furnace.
Mists and rosy clouds cut off the path, no dust can reach here, / No trace of mortal men can ever find its way to this place.
A guest from Gaoyang, with a lovely companion by his side, / Seeks the strange and explores the secluded to broaden his mind.
After feasting in the jade tower, they roam in joyous revelry, / Straying into Penglai, as if awakening from a dream.
The cloud gate first knocked upon, quiet and without a soul, / A crane's cry from the pine tips sounds like a startled report.
In a moment, who is it that opens the door to welcome them? / A maiden from the Wu palace, her face like congealed cream.
Pointing to the orchid hall where seal-script smoke curls upward, / Beaded curtains, exquisite, hang down sweeping the floor.
Lifting high her emerald sleeves, she rolls them up gently, / Half revealing a bewitching face, pure as a lotus.
With a radiant smile, she parts her sandalwood lips, / Calling me to ascend the hall, her voice soft and tender.
Following her, we sit in a circle in an autumn pavilion, / Soon arranging cups and dishes for an elegant feast.
The immortal stamens leaning in the wind seem full of feeling, / Vying to burst their fragrant buds, spraying fragrance afar.
A stretch of morning clouds descends from the Sunny Terrace, / Her graceful figure and beauty, fresh in the mortal world.
Her dark brows lightly brushed like distant blue hills, / Her bright eyes slanting a glance, autumn waves they shear.
Orchid-soft, willow-weak, unable to bear the wind, / Awakening, the hibiscus-scented body trembles slightly.
Cherry lips slowly part, singing pearls of song, / Beyond sunset flowers, orioles warble and trill.
As the song ends, her whisper grows even more affectionate, / Confessing her fragrant heart has yet to fully unfold.
Hiding within, fearing to leak her true fragrance, / Usually coy and timid, shy of oriole and swallow.
Out of pity for the seated guests, all men of talent, / She braves her shyness, tentatively seeking a meeting.
With a radiant smile, as if cherishing flowers' sentiment, / She wishes to beg for brocade verses, engraved on jade.
Her gentle, kind nature already peerless in the world, / Hearing these words, truly she is of matchless beauty.
Unrestrained, we pass the cup, not pausing for a moment, / Strongly disliking the parrot cup for being too shallow.
Drunk like jade, collapsed like a mountain, lying by the latticed window, / Autumn waters fill the bed, congealing on the mat's corners.
A floating, lovely dream enters the Witch's Peak, / Flowing, melting, the mood is at its richest peak.
Suddenly startled awake—what is there to be found? / Only scattered remnants of sunset clouds dot the sealed eyes.
Faintly, lingering fragrance still fills the sleeves, / But the drifting clouds, ethereal, have left no trace.
The world within a gourd has existed since ancient times, / Silently imagining, its scenery should be the same.
I've heard Liu and Ruan once lost their way, / In Wuling they met flower-like maidens.
Chewing the magic pill, they suddenly felt lightened, / Washed clean of red dust, they went off as immortals.
I've also heard that when immortals depart, there's Xiao Fang, / Who once paired with Shuangcheng, drinking jade nectar.
One morning, straying into Huayang Cave, / In flight, they were finally allowed to learn from phoenixes.
Immortal and mortal realms differ, with no proof to rely on, / Often I laughed at former tales as empty words.
How could I expect to encounter such events myself, by chance? / Only then do I believe the human world holds wondrous meetings.
Returning, lamplight approaches the dusk, / Leaning on the table, bored, I secretly yearn and muse.
Moistening the brush, I try to write this Dream Immortal Ballad, / Truly wishing my dream soul would silently tell it once more.