The monastery clings to the high ridge,
On all sides, travelers' paths are cut off.
A scenic spot remains perilous,
The floating bridge sways, propped up.
The great river spreads before me,
Its shimmering green silk dances in ripples.
Where the currents and the kitchen meet,
The water tastes sweeter than cow's milk.
Tapping the rail, I summon turtles and alligators,
Their hidden forms can be glimpsed at times.
Deep at night, the hall looms stark,
The Taiwei constellation solidifies the imperial realm.
Cliff walls stand facing each other,
Vastly separated by clouds and rain.
The sky holds an excess of moonlight,
As the moon sets, I hear the ferry drum.
How clamorous the night wind becomes,
With great ships flanked by paired oars.
Overturned and sunk in a moment,
I, with my oar, go to meet you.
Only then do I know the power of icon teaching,
Ferrying across without any hardship.
I recall the initial狼狈 state,
Seeing only stones and earth.
Glory and splendor vanish in a morning,
Earthen puppets bow in vain.
Human affairs follow the flickering candle,
Vast and obscure, who ultimately holds sway?
Alas, the almsgiving spreads open,
Embroidered pillars rest on myriad plinths.
The high pavilion scrapes the stars,
The new autumn shines on the Herd-boy and Weaver-girl.
Tang Xiu rouses me from my ailment,
And I ascend, turning towards the blue sky.
I lift myself amidst the azure mists,
Leaning together on the vermilion rail to converse.
I sing, and you listen,
My hidden resentment finds an outlet.
Who says Zhang the Recluse,
His mighty brush reflects through the ages?