The river flows, a rolling blue deeper than indigo,
Mountains stand like warhorses, poised to charge.
Though the scenic charm has existed since creation,
To ascend and admire it fully relies on human design.
The ancient Ferry Pavilion grieves its perilous narrowness,
The rocky bank, broken and gaping, reveals its craggy form.
Alas, the view is cluttered and confused,
That wind and moon have long found it unbearable.
Our lord, with talent high and keen discernment,
With wondrous thought, can unlock what the divine has sealed.
Once glimpsed in a different time, it captured his mind,
The order of construction, a sequence not to be mixed.
As governance succeeds, he'll leave to see the crimson gates,
Renewing beams and pillars, how grand and steady they stand.
He adds pavilions and towers spanning the vast void,
A path leading from the mortal realm beyond the dusty world.
Wave-light, bearing the sun, sets flying brackets aglow,
Eave shadows spy on the river, surpassing passing sails.
The perilous rail makes the bright moon feel nearer still,
While swelling waves meet the autumn wind at its peak.
Evening haze on Snail Peak enhances the distant azure,
Returning wings of egrets pierce the clear mountain mist.
Gazing east at Green Plain, a forest seems to stir,
The ancestral meaning—need we labor to probe its depths?
Deep in the night, surely water immortals gather,
With rainbow robes and silk sashes hanging long and fine.
Clouds and mist change their demeanor with the passing day,
Poets toil at verses, carving them with care.
My lord will soon ascend to glory at the court,
Composed, with jade pendants chiming, adorned with rhinoceros hairpins.
A lofty gathering by lake and hill halts for pure delight,
Yet still he should look back south of the river.