Washing feet in the icy sea, I come to roam the heavens;
For miles, cloud-aura follows the azure ox.
The chariot wheels are drenched, the stars and Dipper damp;
I roll up wind and rain, storing them in a golden bowl.
Exquisite coral trees—
I recall the Queen Mother hanging her jade hook there.
When will they transform into a tiny jade boat,
A single leaf drifting freely with the celestial flow?
Fully laden with clear frost, it descends upon the Nine Provinces,
Bestowing white hair upon mortal lives.
I sing the song of the yellow swan,
The Southern Dipper wheels in the south, ah,
Rivers and peaks crowd behind.
The seas and Mount Tai brighten the east, the source of the Yellow River.
The ancestral stream of the Yangtze,
The Kunlun snow mountains lie to the right,
A towering pillar of heaven standing firm in the center.
The radiance of this culture is long,
Ten thousand fathoms filling the great void.
Do not believe that upon the ninth heaven,
Immortals do not read books.
Now in the White Jade Tower,
I hear the Daoist Master Ziyang dwells above,
Molding sun and moon with his hands, securing the stars,
Composing statutes for the Jade Emperor.
And I hear upon the Jasper and Rose-gem Terrace,
Ziyang petitions, deciding to draw water from the Milky Way,
To wash, for all eternity, the foolish dust of the lower world.
Men should learn from the unicorn and phoenix,
Women should learn from the virtuous osprey,
For endless ages honoring the reigns of Tang and Yu.
I am the great-grandson of Lady Tai Mu,
Thus I hear the speech of heaven.
Coming here to drink joyfully,
All worldly sorrows are but a grain—none remain,
Only heaven and earth, and I am not myself.
Drumming my hair, I let out a long whistle under the autumn moon's white gleam,
Which illuminates the great chiliocosm, all placed within my Lady Tai Mu's clear-water jade pot.