廬山記 4.17

4.17

The traveling guest grows weary of lodging on the water; / The wind and tide are difficult to recount in full. / Sandbars and islands suddenly converge; / Riverbanks and shores repeatedly collapse and race. / Riding the moonlight, I listen to the mournful monkeys; / Moistened with dew, the fragrant herbs turn sweet. / In late spring, the green wilds are lush; / The crags are lofty, where white clouds gather. / A thousand thoughts assemble day and night; / Ten thousand feelings fill morning and evening. / Climbing cliffs, I gaze into the stone mirror; / Parting leaves, I enter the pine gate. / At the Three Rivers, events of the past are mostly gone; / Along the Nine Tributaries, the principle remains in vain. / Spiritual creatures begrudge rare marvels; / Extraordinary beings conceal their refined souls. / Golden elixir extinguishes its bright radiance; / Emerald waters cease their flowing warmth. / In vain I compose this song of a thousand leagues; / The strings are snapped, yet my thoughts grow ever deeper.