East and west streets lecture on Buddhist sutras, bell-striking, conch-blowing clamor in palace courts.
Vastly proclaiming sin and fortune to aid enticement and coercion, listeners packed tight like floating duckweed.
Yellow-robed Daoist priests also lecture, but below their seats, sparse as morning stars.
The Huashan maiden's family reveres Dao, wishing to expel the heterodox teaching and return to immortal spirits.
Washing makeup, wiping face, donning cap and cape, white throat, red cheeks, long dark brows.
Then she comes, ascends the seat, expounds the true formula; the temple gate forbids anyone to open.
No one knows who secretly spread the word, but with a roar it shakes like thunder.
Sweeping clean all temples, human traces vanish; thoroughbreds block the road, linked with carriages.
Inside the temple full, people sit outside; latecomers have no place, no way to hear.
Pulling hairpins, removing bracelets, unfastening girdle jades, piling gold, stacking jade, gleaming blue and bright.
Noblemen from the heavenly gate convey an edict summoning; the six palaces wish to see the master's face and form.
The Jade Emperor nods assent to let her return; riding dragons, driving cranes, she goes off to the azure void.
Wealthy family youths, how could they know the Way? They come, circling a hundred times, feet never stopping.
Cloud windows, mist pavilions, affairs vague and dim; layer upon layer of emerald curtains, deep golden screens.
The immortal ladder hard to climb, worldly ties heavy; vainly relying on the blue bird to convey earnest messages.