How towering the emerald cliffs in the gorge appear,
Rising in air like layered walls, a fortress sheer.
Towers and galleries bright with painted red and green,
Spirit-carved, ghost-cut, with axe-work sharp and keen.
Gaping wide, split yet standing firm, not falling down,
From crevices, flying streams hang pearl strings, crown.
Banners line the path, a colorful welcome spread,
Frost blades, snow edges, ten thousand soldiers tread.
Twelve strange peaks as if by swords sliced clean,
True and false alike in beauty, none can judge between.
Heaven's Pillar stands, a thousand fathoms high,
Round stone bones gleam like jade-ice to the eye.
Beside, a cave half-opens its door,
Flying immortal's dwelling, serene to the core.
The toad drinks below, its belly never filled,
Bearing dark ravines, deep and mysteriously stilled.
Gold and jade fill the cave, layered clouds arise,
Clear springs tinkle like zither and chime's melodies.
At forest's edge, the yellow ox old, no more plows,
Beach curves, white sun follows where man allows.
Stone horse with one ear, dreams occasionally divine,
Temple's flutes and drums, how resonant they shine.
River flows for ages, pent-up and not calm,
Four seasons' thunder, wind, and hail's alarm.
Heaven hangs a pure silk, winding to and fro,
Sun and moon hide, veiling their light's glow,
Morning clouds, evening rain, dogs bark at clearing sky.
Mid-mountain dwellings, a true painted screen on high,
Also bamboo pavilions with pine kiosks nigh.
Lift robes to climb, call out and get reply,
But worry barbarian speech, no way to descry.
I've sailed up the gorge but a few stages' length,
What I've seen so strikes my heart with awe and strength.
Yangtai, Yanyu, in order I pass through,
Grinding my pen's tip, my rival strong and true.