The ancient land holds wonders rare, / Like starry cliffs beyond compare.
From court below, the tales arise, / With lavish praise they reach the skies.
Yet some dissent and turn away, / Preferring humble hills to stay.
I beg you, do not laud the height, / Lest you mistake the mover's plight.
And do not praise the water's sound, / For stillness hates the rushing ground.
Plain wine lacks flavor to the taste, / For public palate is misplaced.
Rankings clash, as day and night, / Horse and ox don't plow alike.
Some chase foul scent across the sea, / Can virtue's fragrance truly be?
How is the host a thief to blame? / Hatred from thieves is but the same.
This mountain seeks not to be whole, / It blends with human heart and soul.
Words bring doubt, and doubts bring speech, / Like dogs that at the world's ways screech.
To hear a hundred times falls short / Of one clear glimpse, the sun's report.
I hold the seal of office high, / And travel leagues beneath the sky.
The people's trust, a solemn weight, / The red and black, my daily fate.
Now as my term of service ends, / To Star Cliff my intent ascends.
The Star Cliff has its beauties true, / Pray, elder, lend a quiet ear to view.
Its caverns vast, like virtue's space, / Hold ghosts and spirits in their place.
A hundred-fathom spring inside, / Its clarity no stain can hide.
The dragon god comes swift and fleet, / Across the stone couch finds his seat.
Then sudden, wind and clouds unite, / With thunder's crash and lightning's light.
All monstrous forms are driven hence, / With trembling heart and frightened sense.
What need has mountain to be tall? / With this, its fame may ever call.
I bring along the wine-jar friend, / With gallant guests from end to end.
We carve the rocks and inscribe the post, / Repentant, bear the convict's ghost.
A man should thus his deeds prepare, / Who'd be a fly in petty care?