他山石徒多，器宝匿幽僻。
产璞芙蓉坑，金声而玉德。
冈峦外钩联，地势中断隔。
曲坞八九家，路入羊豕迹。
涧水抱石根，石骨多绀碧。
北山上搀天，南山势蟠伏。
砚工二百指，日凿崔嵬腹。
篝灯砺斧斤，深入逾百尺。
我行冒风雨，周览不知夕。
夜宿茅茨下，青灯照岑寂。
酒阑呼匠氏，访之语纤悉。
冰蚕吐银丝，鲛人织雾縠。
巧手琢磨之，价直黄金镒。
断岩半倾欹，旧穴久湮塞。
旁求得他材，饮水不受墨。
坚滑已支庶，粗燥乃臧获。
信知天壤间，尤物神所惜。
罕见固为贵，有亦未易识。
珉玉混一区，语尽三叹息。
摩挲苍藓崖，此言可镌刻。
其他山上的石头只是徒然众多，
器皿宝物却藏匿在幽深偏僻之处。
出产璞玉的芙蓉坑，
有金声玉德般的品质。
山冈峰峦向外钩连环绕，
地势从中断裂隔绝。
曲折的山坳里有八九户人家，
小路深入，满是羊和猪的足迹。
涧水环抱着石根，
石头的质地多是绀碧色。
北山向上直插天空，
南山地势蟠伏低卧。
砚工有二十人（二百指），
每日开凿高峻的山腹。
点起灯笼，磨利斧斤，
深入超过百尺。
我冒着风雨前行，
周遍观览，不知天色已晚。
夜晚住宿在茅草屋下，
青灯照耀着寂静。
酒宴将尽时呼唤匠人，
访问他，言语细致详尽。
（砚石纹理）如冰蚕吐出的银丝，
如鲛人织成的雾縠。
巧手琢磨它，
价值等同于黄金一镒。
断裂的山岩半已倾侧，
旧的洞穴久已湮塞。
从旁求得其他石材，
（但石质）吸水却不沾墨。
坚硬光滑的已是支庶（旁支，次等），
粗糙干燥的更是臧获（奴仆，下等）。
确知天地之间，
珍奇之物为神灵所珍惜。
罕见固然珍贵，
即使有也不易识别。
珉石与美玉混杂在同一区域，
话说完不禁再三叹息。
抚摸着长满苍苔的山崖，
此言可以镌刻其上。
Other hills have many stones, mere rocks in barren lands,
But treasures hide in seclusion, crafted by skilled hands.
From Lotus Pond the jade is born, with virtue pure and bright,
A golden voice and jade-like soul, a precious, hidden light.
The ridges link in outward curves, a winding, rugged line,
The terrain breaks and interrupts, a fractured, wild design.
A winding hollow holds eight or nine homes, a humble, quiet place,
The path is trod by sheep and swine, who leave their wandering trace.
The stream embraces roots of stone, where rocky bones are found,
In hues of dark and bluish-green, they lie on mossy ground.
The northern mountain scrapes the sky, in lofty, towering height,
The southern hill lies coiled and low, subdued in fading light.
Two hundred fingers of the craftsmen, toiling day by day,
Carve deep into the towering belly, where the precious stone holds sway.
With lanterns lit and axes ground, they venture far within,
Beyond a hundred feet they delve, where darkness must begin.
I journey through the wind and rain, and roam without a care,
Surveying all, I lose the dusk, the evening unaware.
At night I lodge beneath thatched eaves, in stillness and in gloom,
A dim blue lamp illuminates the silence of the room.
When wine is done, I call the master, and ask of him the tale,
He speaks in fine and detailed words, where secrets never fail.
Like silkworms spinning silver threads on ice, so fine and sheer,
Or mermaids weaving misty gauze, a fabric without peer.
With skillful hands they grind and polish, till the stone is true,
Its value equals heavy gold, a treasure fresh and new.
The broken cliff hangs half-askew, a tilted, crumbling wall,
The ancient hollow long blocked up, with earth and stone in thrall.
They seek elsewhere for other stone, but what they find is vain,
It drinks the water but repels the ink, a useless, stubborn grain.
The hard and smooth are like the nobles, prized and set apart,
The coarse and dry are like the captives, lacking skill or art.
I know indeed that in this world, between the earth and sky,
The rarest things are cherished most by gods who dwell on high.
Rarity itself makes preciousness, a truth we all confess,
But even when they are, they're hard for mortal eyes to guess.
Common stone and jade lie mixed within a single zone,
My words end here with three deep sighs, in sorrow not alone.
I stroke the moss-clad cliff of green, where lichen softly grows,
These words are fit to be engraved, as every wise man knows.
于幽僻处寻宝，隐喻人才发现的认知过程。
探寻幽僻之宝，寄托对人才或真知需发掘的感慨。
本诗为五言古诗，押平声韵。
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