The earth's spirit pushes up a precious canopy,
Its rugged peaks stride across three provinces.
The Emperor's seat aligns with the celestial pivot,
Its starry path meets the Dipper and the Ox.
South of the river, it's hailed as the supreme wonder,
Where immortal elders bow to the floating hill.
The old temple clings to the mountain's foot,
The lofty altar crowns the ridge's head.
Ah, the intent of the two perfected ones—
Purposely they lingered here for a time.
All contend that the divine elixir ripened,
Who knew it was an auspicious aura that rose?
Falsely they spread tales of an extraordinary man's breath,
Hastily they dispatched an old minister to gather it.
Beyond the clouds, battles were once fought,
Before the wind, strategies were vainly deployed.
Sharp blades turned to rubble and tiles,
Fierce courage lost its panther-like might.
Furling banners startled the fleeing into hiding,
Returning troops dared not linger or delay.
The cassia office returned to the inner court,
The fungus missive stirred the emperor's beads.
Left arrowheads, fine as filed teeth,
Entangled shoals, dense with horses' tracks.
Once receiving the crimson phoenix decree,
Twice donning the emerald cloud fur robe.
Merit fulfilled in three thousand deeds,
Spirit roamed the eight extremes in travel.
Following, the simurgh and the crane,
Riding, the tiger and the coiling dragon.
Immortal music proclaimed a new melody,
The chessboard transformed the ancient catalpa.
The dark altar opened wide and clear,
The purple cavern locked deep and secluded.
Chickens raised in an empty cave remain,
Dragons cast down into the old pool.
Slaying demons, leaving the blood-stained tree,
Turning to stone, gazing at the immortal's boat.
Goose Ridge in clear skies sheds flying snow,
Tea Hollow in summer heat holds autumn chill.
Retreating heart climbs the steep ridges,
Pure hands scoop the cold flowing stream.
Sharp rocks resemble spearheads,
Long mountains match a sword's spine.
The perilous path winds in nine bends,
The daunting terrace surpasses three rests.
Spiritual herbs are begged from others,
Incense burners suffice for thoughtful plans.
Three huts rise with auspicious signs,
Five Peaks record the true journey.
Thunder and lightning obey their command,
Clouds and sky offer shelter and grace.
Traces left are hard to chronicle,
Lines composed lack exhaustive search.
Forty-eight thousand years,
Five cities and twelve towers.
Near, it seems to join the crimson palace gates,
Far, it dreams of connecting to the azure isles.
The intent to summon recluses, the immortal elder's will—
My hairpin here I may cast and stay.