Stone swallows sleep in valley cliffs;
The imperial gate locks Fenglong deep.
Entering, I doubt if they exist,
Yet pleased by this faint, gentle breeze.
In clear sky, I cast my gaze afar,
Already glad as a crane from cage.
After the long spell of gloomy rain,
Lacking, amid the sages and worthies.
Court bamboos, sudden magpies dry;
Cloudy paths, also light wild geese.
New poems shine on aged eyes,
Beauty outshines the crowd of red blooms.
Flying immortals knock in quiet seclusion,
Jade pendants chime with tinkling sounds.
Layered, I draw on splendid views,
Who says my heaven is poor?
Flower-gods pity the guest's heart,
Dense, like the magical rhinoceros horn.
Redundant official, yet at leisure,
On festival, let's be at ease.
Slowly, we float cups in drunkenness,
Perhaps meeting one who unties girdle-pendants.
The whole town tries new makeup,
Every household with empty blinds.
Not yet using great brush to fly,
Sitting, amazed by ten clerks' service.
Joyful things easily become traces,
This sigh same in ancient and now.
Then, at Orchid Pavilion's preface,
Each word spoken from the heart.
Fine gathering, Green God pities;
Fragrant feelings, our kind treasures.
Rich scents and beauties,
Reflecting each other, charming and lush.
Pour wine to urge the Sun's chariot,
Westward, how can you bear to rush?
In twilight, I hope wishes come true,
A hundred disobeys, now one follow.
Torrential laughter and talk,
Almost become a mumbling old man.