South of the river, many famous mountains stand,
But Yandang's peaks are the most grand.
Among the hills, many ancient temples lie,
Lingyan Temple, peerless, touches the sky.
Heavenly Pillar soars high, stroking the cloud,
Unfurled Banner cleverly blocks the sun, proud.
Wind-swept couch rests on a stone screen,
Misty window holds a lofty brush, serene.
Above, the Small Dragon Pool is found,
From the Dragon's Nose, clear springs abound.
How strange! The Arhat Nāgārjuna came,
To sit here with folded knees, all the same.
I too am a wanderer in these lands,
And know its scenes well, as my heart understands.
Solitary Beauty I admire, lush and green,
On layered terraces, I listen to rustlings keen.
Then through the Water-Curtain Vale I stride,
My robe feels chilled, with cold inside.
Returning to the Crescent Moon Cave's space,
My spirit feels so free, with boundless grace.
Anqi points to melons and dates, so fair,
Xianmen offers pears and chestnuts, rare.
Like drifting tiles, what's right or wrong?
At the crossroads, gains and losses don't belong.
All my life, I've roamed beyond the worldly sphere,
But this journey is the foremost, dear.
In vain, I climb the thrice-three ridge, high,
Better not cross the seven-seven, let it lie.
Who'd think at the mountain's end, so far,
There's still a meditation room, a tranquil star?
The gate aligns with twin peaks, sharp and tall,
The path is cool, with countless banyans, all.
Rocks touched, the shallow stream sings clear,
Into the woods, flying birds disappear.
By my side, people might laugh at me,
‘When will your mountain-gazing finished be?’
I laugh and tell the people by my side,
‘I regret my climbs have been too few, with pride.’
I write this poem for my journey's sake,
Not for greedy writings that I make.