Zimei sent me the chant of Canglang, inviting me to compose a Canglang verse.
The scenery of Canglang is beyond reach, making my heart wander eastward in longing.
The desolate bay and wild waters breathe an ancient air, tall woods and green hills encircle each other.
Fresh bamboo shoots sprout, adding summer shadows; old stumps burst forth, vying for spring's beauty.
Waterfowl at leisure embody noble grace; mountain birds chirp and clamor from dawn till dusk.
Who knows how many rises and falls this place has seen? Gazing up, the lofty trees are all shrouded in mist.
Alas, human traces come not far; though there is a path, none have had the chance to tread.
Who else, like you, seeks the utterly strange, searching hidden depths to explore divine immortals?
First, a narrow path leads into dense growth, then a vast, wondrous realm unfolds before the eyes.
When the wind is high and the moon bright, night is most fitting—a pristine expanse like a field of jade.
The clear light blurs water and moon, only an empty azure holding ripples is seen.
Cool breeze and bright moon are priceless by nature, yet sadly sold for a mere forty thousand coins.
I wonder if this realm was Heaven's gift; Heaven should pity the worn-out hero.
Even the ancient recluse Chi Yi went alone, where rivers and lakes surge with boundless waves.
On the rugged path of the world, wishing to break free, one instead tests the dragon's abyss with his own body.
How better to drift freely in a small boat, with red lotuses and green waves rocking me to drunken sleep?
A true man, while alive, is never long forsaken; with new poems and fine wine, let us pass the years.
Though common guests are not allowed here, do not begrudge sharing fine verses with the world.