In youth I loved the wondrous, roaming free on horseback,
Gazing afar across the world, loving this vast universe.
Mountains and rivers I never tired of seeing, my spirit soaring, forgetting to return.
Min and E peaks were the first I saw, their bright light gracing the western plains.
From afar, not yet ascended, I loved their green, like maiden's hair.
In winter, heavy snow buried shins; in summer and autumn, many serpents crawled.
Only in spring did I dare go, crawling up the rugged cliffs.
Paths too narrow for a foot, left and right echoed with cries of deer and apes.
On shaded cliffs, snow hard as stone, warmed by the sun, turned to rushing streams.
After days I reached the summit, dizzy, hands and feet trembling.
Fearing I could not descend, I clutched my chest and heaved a long sigh.
Sitting still, gazing all around, the scene was not of the mortal world.
Looking up, I breathed the clouds and mist; reaching down, I stroked a hundred peaks.
Facing the wind, playing with my sleeves, I floated like an immortal in the breeze.
Later I traveled to Jing and Zhu, laughing and talking as I boarded a gorge boat.
The gorge mountains have no gentle slopes; the gorge waters are fierce and swift.
A long wind sent my light sail, fleeting past, too fast to observe in detail.
Most lovely among them were the Witch Temple peaks, a dozen summits.
Towering like stems of green jade, bending their heads, their ends unseen.
The rest were also strange and grotesque, with old earth and stubborn cliff rocks.
The Yangtze flowed turbid and vast, gnawing at banks, impossible to restrain.
Were it not for the gorge mountains' might, its expanse would have no bounds.
Perhaps it was the Creator's intent, to make them perilous and firm.
River and mountains confronting each other, spared later ages from flood disasters.
Traveling by water for over a month, I moored the boat and took to saddle.
Wandering through dusty lands, ears noisy, eyes bleary and dim.
Midway I met the Han River, its chaotic flow I loved for its clear depths.
Meeting dusty travelers on the road, I washed, leaving no stain.
Whipping my horse into the capital, for years I could not gain a post.
Longing for my distant homeland, in midnight hours turned to sorrow.
With five sighs, I did not linger, but urged my carriage through Huanyuan.
Then I came to know Mount Song, majestic, its demeanor noble.
Not ranked among common peaks, its form anchors the Central Plains.
In a few days I reached beneath Mount Hua, its splendid green shone against the sky.
For tens of miles up and down, before my eyes rose jagged blue peaks.
Winding, I saw the Zhongnan range, towering, coiling around Chang'an.
A month spent viewing mountains, my bosom swelled, soaring high.
Gradually the great road ended, by the mountain a plank path clung.
Looking down into unfathomable streams, stone teeth crossed like spears and lances.
A precarious pavilion frightened the horse's feet; perilous cliffs ground against my shoulders.
Left a mountain, right a sheer ravine, between them a single rope bridge.
Proudly halting bridle and reins, yet I urged forward with the whip.
Range upon range of severed peaks, standing alone, unconnected.
Some jutting out even steeper, others stretching far as if vying to lead.
Sometimes crossing ridges, dismounting to tread dangerous hardship.
Strange sights grew more captivating; toil transformed into pure joy.
Step by step up to Sword Gate, forcing myself, my feet reluctant.
Raising my head toward my homeland, only endless green mist seen.
Descending Deer Head Slope, at last I saw flat sandy fields.
Returning home to see wife and children, my bold dreams hard to retain.
Thus for the remaining years, this road I often traveled round.
Then I heard of Wu and Yue mountains, where waters are bright and clear.
With a hundred gold I bought a steed, my will to go unrestrained.
I threw myself into Mount Lu, first drinking from the waterfall's source.
Falling two thousand zhang, its force too fierce to approach.
Its scattered spray turned to rain, spreading cold throughout the mountains.
Next I entered Erlin Temple, and gained a lofty monk's words.
Asked about the supreme scenery, he guided me to climb together.
Over a month, never wearying, through crags and valleys, nearly exhausted.
Descending, I headed south again, not knowing I'd reached southern Qian.
The Five Ridges visible in the distance, wishing to go, found it not hard.
I planned to go and climb for pleasure, hoping to glimpse the many tribes.
This wish ultimately unfulfilled, I returned, my heart tormented with sorrow.
Arriving home, I went out no more, a meal, and suddenly ten years passed.
Yesterday I heard of Lushan commandery, its prefect, Master Lei, wise.
I went seeking to meet him, and saw the mountains lush and coiled again.
Sheer cliffs spanning three directions, like a great broken ring.
Enveloping five or six provinces, leaning against them as a long wall.
Generally, Shu mountains are steep, craggy, their temper not warm.
Unlike the backs of Song and Hua, their aspect thick and profuse.
Master Wu, a talent from Yingchuan, for six years served as Shu official.
Burdened by documents and ledgers, like a celestial crane caged.
Min Mountain in Qingcheng county, Emei too in southern Jian.
Li and Ya also reachable, not seeing them should make one sad.
Like a fat ox cooked, passing before the eyes but not eaten.
First I thought to sail the gorge away, this promise now again broken.
Only the northeastern mountains remain, still seeing off my returning carriage.
Other hills are no longer seen; this one I can gaze upon with care.