The monarch of Youxiong loved gods and immortals,
He dined on rosy clouds and tempered stones for three thousand years.
One day a yellow dragon descended from the ninth heaven,
He rode the dragon, soaring steadfastly into purple mists.
The myriad people clutched at its beard, the beard fell to earth,
They wailed, their bows and swords drifting in the cold water.
Eight or nine purple phoenixes dropped their jade pipes,
The golden mirror left behind only shines upon goblins.
Feathered banners, ragged, cross the autumn Milky Way,
The six palaces gaze afar, lotus blossoms sorrow.
The winged dragon swoops down, laughing in the central garden,
Vast waters wind around the isle of green moss.
Auspicious winds rustle, heaven's light grows faint,
Jade towers stand tall, spanning the dew-filled park.
At the tower top, the purple phoenix sings of night dew,
Beneath the three-jeweled tree, the green ox dines.
Vast palaces connect to the Jade Emperor,
Heavenly music guides the golden-flower lord.
The flower-scattering lad in short crane-feather robe,
The pitch-pot maiden with long moth-eyebrows.
In the vermilion court they feast at Jasper Pool,
The old moon-spring hangs high, the Cassia Palace gleams white.
The Penglai lower realm bestows divided jade tablets,
The Queen Mother's golden peaches allow a small plucking.
The immortal current, myriad sealed worm-seal scripts of spring,
Thirty-six grottoes exchange winds and clouds.
A thousand-year minor ascetic sheds his cicada shell,
At the Cinnabar Terrace, an aide to the Fusang Lord.
The golden crow tests bathing in the Green Gate's waters,
How many times have the ephemerae of the lower world died?