A wealthy merchant's ship rides the east wind, breaking waves,
Winches follow one another into the vast, dark sea.
Looking around, the endless horizon stretches beyond sight,
A cargo of ten thousand stones, yet light as drifting tumbleweed.
Suddenly, six waterbirds cannot advance,
Eight or nine of ten boats become empty, void.
One boat, by chance, escapes the fish's belly,
Hoisting sail, no time to debate east or west.
The great sun rises and sets, night turns to dawn again,
From somewhere, a clear, distant morning bell tolls.
The boatmen, listening intently, are startled with joy,
When suddenly they glimpse strange peaks lining the water's edge.
Lowering sails, dropping anchor, they moor by an ancient shore,
A stark, wild path winds through the clouds.
A scholar from Yinzhou, riding at the boat's stern,
Sees this and leaps eagerly, chasing like an ape.
Through sparse, strange woods for ten li he advances,
To a sudden ancient courtyard, inscribed 'Palace of Heaven.'
Entering the gate, a long corridor turns silent and still,
In the hall, an old man with thick eyebrows sits high.
Left and right, three hundred attendants stand in wait,
Discussing mysteries, expounding meanings, voices clear as jade.
Meeting, they ask of hardships, pitying his wandering state,
Then open an empty room to lodge his transient trace.
Robes of common cloth abound, deceiving winter snow,
Only here, a brocade curtain glows like morning clouds.
Gold and white jade present a lavish feast,
Herbal sprouts, vegetable shoots, tender and green.
The host declares he fled the巢寇 rebellion's strife,
Since coming here, he shares no ties with the Central Plain.
'In today's world, who truly is the Son of Heaven?'
After speaking, he falls silent, as if deaf and blind.
Daily, he sends his two sons to accompany the guest's roam,
Thus allowing detailed queries to dispel ignorance.
Both say, 'We are called Recluses, our names
Not listed among the ranks of immortal clans.
Three hundred in three grades serve one master,
The highest, first among them, is Lord Pei Xiu.
Guided, we climbed steep heights of several thousand zhang,
On Laughing Qin Pavilion, we lingered at ease.
The Qin Emperor's laugh is laughable, unceasing,
Its sound shakes the pavilion's corners, crumbling the vault.
Where are Xu Fu and Manqian now?
Before and after, stone walls still form rooms.
Lifting a hand, they point to Penglai Isle,
Frost and snow climb straight up, grinding against the azure sky.
Waves surge, crashing against the mountain's foot,
In Lu, a sage personally ground the stone.
To make strange creatures know what they should fear,
Coiled dragons circle the surrounding waters.
The scholar's thirst for fame and gain penetrates bone and marrow,
Worldly thoughts, long nurtured, fill his heart.
The old man, perceiving this, merely smiles,
'Re-entering the blood-bowl—is that easily overcome?'
The road to Penglai you have often seen,
This parting, for vast kalpas, may never come again.
Now, with my boat, I aid your journey there,
That you may ascend, gaze, and perhaps reach the end.
The sun's wheel welcomes dawn, emerging by the mountain,
The water's sound boils first, startling the deep cavern.
Red light scatters and gathers, moving heaven and earth,
In a moment, the climate divides spring and winter.
High and low, palace corners stand facing each other,
Each one carved and chiseled, not by human hand.
All morning long, no immortal is encountered,
Only auspicious clouds and mist, vague and dim.
Asked, the Recluses have reasons to explain:
In recent times, human traces nearly overlap.
Phoenix carriages and crane rides disdain mortal flesh,
Soberly, they soar far, returning to primal chaos.
Only Master Lü Weng here remains,
Three or four times a year, sleeping in the pine wind.
The scholar's worldly thoughts, after all, do not cease,
The host merely asks what offerings he might bring.
'Ginseng like a man, yet even taller—
I beg a few roots to support my weary ailment.'
The old man says, 'This thing has divine protection,
But crossing the sea path surely invites misfortune.
Fine gold and beautiful jade are also treasures rare,
If you truly desire them, I shall comply.'
Sincere teachings and warnings are not just one matter,
Especially cautioning against sleep-talk, detailing start to end.
Four lines of the Lankavatara's secret verse,
Offer them in practice, with reverence and care.
The scholar bows again, rises to weigh anchor,
In a glance, he's already within Yinzhou's bounds.
Returning home, wife and children long in yellow earth,
A solitary form, a single shadow, hurried back.
Yet thinking to join the old man in pure quietude,
Only wild geese between southern and northern skies.
Vaguely, advance or retreat is like catching shadows,
A lifetime of confusion ends in a mad youth.
Have you not seen? Qin's Emperor, Han's Wu, wielded power and might,
Themselves claiming spirits and immortals they could summon.
By the sea, magicians daily swaggered bold,
After all, a thousand wrongs, not one was right.
The scholar strode straight to Penglai's peak,
Moreover, heaven's beings diligently gave guidance.
If for official fame one bitterly clings to death's grip,
Missing a step, from blue clouds one falls to flat ground.
Immortals, oh immortals, how different you are!
To seek or not to seek—neither is achieved.
Though I am beyond passion, I still sigh and grieve,
The gate of Confucius is not for this debate,
Spontaneously, I compose this poem to record the affair.