The imperial summons, urgent, arrives from the throne;
Pressing the governor's seal, I must make haste to go.
The weary folk not yet revived, I look back in vain;
Hesitant and concerned, my steps begin to slow.
I come to seek the covenant at Lingyuan's spring;
Joyful to be accompanied by noble guests here.
First, we drink from the cool and limpid fountain's flow;
To wash away the stains of worldly toil and fear.
Transcending the oppressive heat and mundane care,
My body feels as if in a pot of ice placed.
At dawn, I climb the perilous pavilion high;
Where cloud-waves vast and empty, the horizon graced.
Mists and haze now open, now close, in constant shift;
Peaks and ridges appear and vanish, a fleeting gift.
How magnificent this peerless view, grand and sublime!
Dominating the southeast, standing against time.
The verdant cliffs rise sheer, ten thousand fathoms tall;
Surrounded on all sides by jade-like precious stone.
Luxuriant trees artfully obscure and reveal;
At noon, their cooling shade is generously thrown.
It makes one serene, forgetting the journey home;
As if arriving at the true, blissful Huaxu dome.
I recall the day we sailed among lotus blooms;
Choosing scenic spots, inviting friends in delight.
Caressing the inscriptions carved upon the cliff face;
In admiration of Zhao and Zhu, with insight.
Raising cups, we poured libations and made our vow;
To uphold integrity from beginning to end.
Returning now after thirty years have passed by;
As if a single morning and evening did rend.
Of the four or five companions who roamed with me;
Only I, aged and gaunt, remain here today.
My thoughts turn to you, Master Chen, with deep longing;
Sighing with emotion, words nearly fade away.
You embraced the bright moon's end, your journey complete;
While I still tread the long road, my path incomplete.
Stumbling and falling I fear cannot be avoided;
How then should I be watchful, vigilant, and poised?
I wish to pray with words for our fellowship true;
To lend each other strength, with mutual aid employed.
The Chan master, too, is a man of pleasing grace;
Who newly built a hut atop the mountain's crest.
Aged as I am, I tire of wandering's chase;
Official rank and carriage bring me no true rest.
I must break free from worldly fetters that confine;
To dwell by Lazy Can's side, and make his home mine.