Buddhism entered China,
Six hundred years have passed since then.
Common folk flee taxes and labor,
Noble scholars delve into secluded meditation.
Officials do not restrain them,
But let them act freely, one after another.
Farming and sericulture daily lose workers,
The court at times dismisses worthy men.
Master Ling, of the Huangfu surname,
His lineage was one of continuous succession.
In youth he studied histories and books,
Early able to compose literary pieces.
In between, he met with discontent,
Lost his traces, becoming a wanderer.
His free will did not abide by teachings,
Soaring high, he broke all bonds and fetters.
He played chess, battling black and white,
Life and death followed chance and strategy.
With six dice in one throw,
Shouting as the枭and卢spun round.
In battle-poems, who could match him?
Vast and mighty, he wielded spear and halberd.
Drinking wine, he drained a hundred cups,
Mocking and jesting, his thoughts grew ever fresher.
Sometimes drunk beneath flowers and moon,
He sang clear and lingering songs.
All four seats fell silent,
As if hearing Xiang River strings played afar.
Seeking wonders, he feared no danger,
On the Qian River, often sailing up and down.
At Qutang Gorge in fifth or sixth moon,
Lightning yielded to his returning boat.
The furious waters suddenly split asunder,
A thousand fathoms down into dark springs.
Whirling currents grew ever swifter,
Looking up, he saw the circling sky.
To plunge in was no plan,
Yet life he willingly would sacrifice.
Foam and spray churned in tumult,
Floating, he was born again whole.
Of twenty fellow travelers,
Souls and bones were buried in pits.
Master Ling bore no care,
Braving hardships, his journey stretched on.
The governors of Kai and Zhong prefectures
Often passed around his poems and rhapsodies.
Out of office, he did not take up brush,
But strung pearls and jades for you, my lord.
Forced to stay, time was spent,
On dense mats, fair maidens were arrayed.
Yesterday he reached Linyi,
Where the governor held many feasts.
Three or four exiled gentlemen,
Filled his bosom with gifts of orchids.
On lakes he roamed vast expanses,
By streams he feasted where waters murmured.
Parting words were not allowed out,
Walking robes were often tugged and held.
Neighboring prefectures vied to invite him,
Letters and notes fluttered like birds.
In tenth month, down from Guiling Pass,
Riding the cold, he indulged in exploration.
The solitary Wang, a court official,
Striving to welcome, obtained him first.
Since entering the guest lodge,
He occupied it long, able to monopolize.
We, his followers, quite brought our bedding,
Lodging together, exhausting joy and beauty.
Hearing tales of the two capitals,
Clearly all appeared before our eyes.
Crisscrossed with mixed rumors and customs,
Trifling details all were gathered and pierced.
His talent and tone truly regrettable,
Like cinnabar needing grinding and polishing.
Just about to gather him to the Way,
And wishing to crown him at the summit.
Governor Li of Shaoyang,
With lofty stride transcended clouds.
Getting such a guest, he forgot to eat,
Opened his purse, begging for silk and coins.
Holding the Nan Cao's record in hand,
Characters weighty, carved in green jade.
Ancient aura partakes of the彖and系,
Lofty standard crushes the太玄.
Mooring the boat for seeking audience,
Reading it cured his headache wind.
As if old acquaintances reunited,
Tipping the pot, they vented hidden melancholy.
Because of this he lingered on,
When will the homebound carriage whip be raised?