In early spring I roam the southern peak, departing westwards from the city gate.
Along the rugged paths by paddy fields, I sometimes wade through narrow streams.
At noon I reach the mountain's base, first reading the ancient, weathered stele.
The monks' quarters look quite fresh and new; in painted hues, the morning sun appears.
They say that Master Zhi once lived here; on rocks, the traces of his horse's hoofs remain.
Crossing the ridge to Tianping, I gaze up at the perilous stone house.
From the dark cliff a white spring pours; before it, I forget my weariness.
On western cliffs, windows are arrayed, through which the slanting sunlight filters, delicate.
Embedded like fine pastries set in place, how could such work be done by human hands?
Morning meal taken down at Mudu town, the market goods are what the vulgar prize.
The Lute Terrace I once visited; I turn my head, recalling old inscriptions.
Southward again I cross a ridge, winding along a deer's narrow track.
Bending my body towards Baohua, before arrival, I hear the Dharma drum.
Among the pines, a broad road comes in view, flat as if a golden hammer were concealed.
The temple presses on two mountain feet, with screens spread out on three sides all around.
Late at night I lodge in the empty hall, so clear and pure, no dreams disturb my thoughts.
To the southwest I climb Yao Peak, said by custom to be Yao's foundation.
Great rivers could not drown it; atop, ten thousand dwellers make their home.
Midway I leave the bamboo sedan; my followers too sweat through their clothes.
On level land, with clever steps I stride; a sturdy horse could not keep up with me.
I grieve my body's large and sturdy frame; my two thighs ache and will not follow will.
Rain on the cliffs makes the steps slippery; I rely on my dry staff for support.
Looking around, the scenes are varied; though weary, I force myself to hold on.
Bamboo and timber prop each other up; a small pavilion perches on a risky ladder.
At dawn I pass by Hengshan, treading on clouds and mist that hang so low.
My body feels as if it's grown wings; below, I see the swans and geese seem small.
Then gazing at the forests in the vales, dense as the rows of shepherd's purse and wheat.
Some trees stand straight in orderly lines, in early spring they sprout green, tender hues.
A stretch of dark blue glazed tiles appears; towers and halls seem glued to earth in flight.
To the right, a vast expanse of lake, eastward it blends with sky, a blurry line.
The sun burns off the white mist, opens view; the wind drives silver mountain waves to shift.
Passing by the Waist-Bending Pagoda, its iron rings have all toppled down.
Recently struck by thunderbolts, the fire fierce, tiles and bricks were crushed to dust.
I know not what intent of Heaven's will, to wreck this thus—for what purpose, then?
Winding along, I gaze down at Jianfu, and love this pond beside the road.
Clear without a speck of dust, shrimp and fish hide in the glassy depths.
At Baoji I look up at tall bamboos, neat like a banner of kingfisher feathers.
The Lengqie Hall is old and decayed; old tales passed down may not be true.
Northward I cross a thousand-zhang bridge, its pillars sway, railings tilt and lean.
Holding my robe, I bend and hurry on, worried by the stream wind blowing fierce.
Where I meet a fine view, I linger there; looking up and whistling, my scarf often falls.
Long I speak, delight in jest and banter; raising wine, I first chuckle with glee.
My friend Zilü beholds these wondrous sights, stares wide-eyed, sighing with amazement.
And when I return to dwell in town, the townsfolk know nothing of it all.
I doubt my body was detained there; briefly, in this dream, I have come back.
Chaotically engaged in vulgar tasks, rushing about, each striving for his own.
What happened before was but a dream; again and again, I question myself.
The spirit travels day and night; looking inward, the walking corpse remains.
How to shake off the worldly dust? Neither glory nor disgrace can I foresee.
Clear springs and white clouds—in them till old age, I'll find my own contentment and delight.