Once I went to Lingyin Mountain,
Before the temple, I gazed greedily at the water.
Tree shadows mirrored the sun's brilliant hues,
Deep pools, clear and free of worldly dust.
Swimming minnows, used to crumbs, gather like ants,
Tapping the railing, they swarm in a crowd.
Sitting and enjoying this scene—is it not fine?
Yet one must wait for the waves to rise.
Open the sluice, release the three planks,
Thunderous waters rush down the ravine's floor.
Like oil on the moss-covered stones,
Old sediment glimmers, spreading far and wide.
Let my clothes be splashed and soaked,
Light breezes whisper, filling my ears.
Returning home, still lost in dreams,
Awake, my thoughts linger, unceasing.
For years, I've rarely roamed the hills,
Dwelling deep, far from the dusty market's noise.
Forest plants gradually grow thick and lush,
Exploring secluded beauty, all delights remain.
A sparse stream stretches a hundred fathoms,
Winding and twisting, adorned with duckweed and iris.
Stirred by the wind, it forms tiny ripples,
Green wrinkles—especially delightful to see.
Sometimes, as the day draws toward evening,
By the bend, I wander leisurely, leaning.
Bamboo mat patterns, creased like fine silk,
When the wind calms, all ripples cease as one.
Like glass, crystal-clear and unmoving,
I love most the heart of its stillness.
I think to probe it with my staff,
But fear to break it, hard to restore.
I think to toss in tiles and stones,
But fear to stain it, hard to cleanse.
Peach tree shadows flank the cliffs,
Greeting the gaze, green and winding afar.
Birds have all returned to their roosts,
Only this old recluse remains.
My feet grow numb, yet I cannot bear to leave,
I long to place a bed and table here.
Tie the sun's chariot with a long rope,
Allow it not to sink in the western stream.
Suddenly I think of the scene at home,
Unlike this borrowed view, it cannot compare.
I've resigned to leisure till old age,
From old age, leisure until death.
Henceforth, on clear days, I'll come and gaze,
This gazing—how could it ever have an end?
Silently, my heart speaks these words:
Gongfu, I caution you thus.
Let your conduct grow ever more lofty,
Be careful to the end as at the start.
Keep your spirit forever pure and empty,
Inner and outer are not two separate things.
Whether walking, staying, sitting, or lying,
Even muddy ditches become clear streams.
Spare the water from having to say:
Human filth brings shame upon me.