《四明洞天丹山间咏集》

Collected Poems and Illustrated Odes on Cinnabar Mountain in the Grotto-Heaven of Siming (Siming dongtian Danshan jian yong ji) is an anthology of poems, prose, and illustrated verse describing Cinnabar Mountain in the Siming Grotto-Heaven. A "grotto-heaven" (dongtian) is, in Daoist belief, a place where immortals dwell and where spiritual qi (Qi, vital energy) gathers. The work was compiled in the Yuan dynasty by Zeng Jian, Wei Su, and others. It consists of one fascicle and is included in the Zhengtong Daozang (Daoist Canon of the Zhengtong era).

The preface is signed "Written by Zeng Jian of Linchuan, Hermit-Historian of the Azure Sea." This means that the preface was written by Zeng Jian, who came from Linchuan and styled himself the "Hermit-Historian of the Azure Sea."

Mount Siming (Siming Shan) lies above the Eastern Sea. Within the mountain are four caverns that pass through one another, and when one gazes up into them it seems that daylight can be seen. On a clear day, viewed from afar, the cavern openings look like rows of windows, and the local people call them the "Stone Windows," from which the mountain takes its name. In the Tang dynasty a prefectural seat was established here, in what is now the area of Yuyao, and the name of the commandery therefore carries the character "Ming." In the Song dynasty the old Qingyuan seat was reorganized and a separate county was established. In the present dynasty it was raised to a prefecture, and Mount Siming came under the jurisdiction of Yuyao, one hundred li south of the prefectural city. In the shrines and Daoist temples at the foot of the mountain, maps of the mountain are engraved: the first is the map from when the temple was founded in the Yuan dynasty, and the second is the map from when the temple was relocated in the Tang dynasty; in general, both depict Mount Siming. Mu Xuanxu said that there are thirty-six Grotto-Heavens (dongtian) in the world, and Mount Siming ranks ninth among them, named "Cinnabar Mountain and Crimson Waters."

In my investigation, this mountain is connected with Mount Dalan. Its ridges coil and interlace, with a circumference of three hundred and eighty li, two hundred and eighty peaks, and a height of two hundred and ten zhang. Clouds and mist shroud the mountain all year round, stretching unbroken for twenty li. Where the mist covers, the land south of the twenty-li mark is called Yunnan ("South of the Clouds") and the land to the north is called Yunbei ("North of the Clouds"). Following the ridge for thirty li, one reaches Mount Santai, upon which are scenic sites such as the Screen, the Stone House, and the Cloud Root. Between the Stone House and the Cloud Root there is a waterfall, like a river hung in the air; beside it lies the Chanyuan Cavern. Beside Mount Santai there is also the Dragon Rinse (Longshu).

In the Later Han, Liu Gang, the magistrate of Shangyu County, resigned his office and lived with his wife, Lady Fan Yunqiao, in the Chanyuan Cavern, where by chance they obtained the arts of immortality from a certain Master Bai. Above the cavern lies the Medicine-Washing Stream. When his cultivation was complete, Liu Gang climbed to the summit of Mount Dalan with his friends, clambered up a giant cedar, first waved farewell and then called out to his wife; the couple then departed together as immortals. It is said that after they left, the traces they left behind at the foot of the mountain turned into a crouching tiger. To commemorate them, later generations named the mountain as the mountain dedicated to their worship, and called the pavilion Fanxie ("Fan's Pavilion"). The recluse Kong You later also dwelt here. He once saw hundreds of hu of coins in a valley; woodcutters scrambled to pick them up, but the coins turned into rubble. A deer pierced by an arrow ran to Kong You for refuge; he treated its wound and fed it, and when it had recovered he let it go. For this reason a Deer Pavilion stands beside the temple.

During the Yongding era of the Chen dynasty, someone founded a Daoist temple, making use of an old shrine, and so it was called "Keyu." In the eleventh year of Tianbao in the Tang, the court sent an envoy to perform sacrifices; but finding the old site remote and hard to reach, the Daoist Fenjie and the retired scholar Li Jian relocated the temple to the outside of the Chanyuan Cavern, and an official post was established to supervise the offerings of oil and water.

In the Song dynasty, Wu Zhenyang of the Sanhua Institute on Mount Longhu, styled Hunpuzi ("Master of Primal Simplicity"), had studied under the Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhang, Xuxing, and after traveling widely he settled on this mountain. Emperor Huizong of the Song once appointed him Collator of the Hall of Concentrated Spirit and summoned him to court, but he did not respond to the summons. In the sixth year of Zhenghe, an imperial edict ordered the temple expanded and the Hall of the Jade Emperor built, and the emperor personally wrote the tablet for the hall; the temple gate was inscribed "Grotto-Heaven of Cinnabar Mountain and Crimson Waters." Liu Gang was enfeoffed as True Lord Shengxuan Mingyi, Lady Fan as Primal Lady Shengzhen Miaohua, and Hunpuzi was granted the title Gentleman of the Cinnabar Grove. The court also prohibited the felling of the forests and the levying of taxes. In the reign of Emperor Gaozong of the Song, the Chancellor Lord Zhang of Wei, who knew Kong Rong, a disciple of Hunpuzi, submitted a memorial recommending Hunpuzi as a Perfected Person (zhenren), and permitted the temple to ordain one Daoist each year, to be transmitted in the order of the jia-yi sequence.

In the first year of Jiaxi, Emperor Lizong of the Song prayed for an heir at the Longrui Palace in Kuaiji, and after the ritual was complete he divided and deposited the Golden Dragon and Jade Tablets here. At present, Venerable Master Mao Yongzhen has succeeded to the abbacy from the Sanhua Institute.

On the mountain there is a tree called the green lattice tree, whose fruit is sweet but cannot be cracked open. Among the beasts of the mountain is the ju monkey. In the Xiantong era of the Tang, Xie Yichen lived in seclusion here. Lu Guimeng and Pi Rixiu often traveled through the mountain, and each wrote nine poems, taking it as their subject. Lu You of the Song recorded:

Twice I crossed the sea on official business, passing Yuyao by way of the Qingyuan waters, and gazed far off toward Mount Siming. The mountain's shadow was faint and hazy, like light cloud inserted into the edge of the sky. The boatman pointed it out to me and said that it was Mount Dalan. Later, when I reached the capital, Xue Yifu happened to arrive from Venerable Master Mao and showed me two maps of the mountain. From them I imagined the marvelous beauty of its mountains and streams, and I longed to climb it myself, to sit with one or two leisured companions in the Deer Pavilion, drink the spring water of the Chanyuan Cavern, call the ju monkeys, and wash away the toil of the world; but, alas, official duties pressed upon me. When I passed by boat in those years, I could only gaze into the distance with a heavy heart and sigh.

Of late, scholar-officials have been absorbed in fame and profit: those of high rank cannot, like Liu Gang, doff their official robes and retire into seclusion, and those a rung below cannot, like Pi and Lu, cast off restraint and keep company in composing poems. It is no wonder that those who have transcended the world laugh at them, and even call this place a Grotto-Heaven. For this reason I have recorded in detail the origins and history of this mountain, so that those with aspirations beyond the dusty world may take it in at a glance.

Mount Siming, also known as the Chishui Grotto-Heaven (Dongtian), is a sacred mountain realm formed by nature itself, and it has preserved many traces of immortals and relics of sages.

The whole mountain consists of two hundred and eighty peaks linked to one another like a folding screen. According to the Record (Ji), there are seventy peaks on each of the four sides, which together make exactly two hundred and eighty. The mountain holds many caverns, and tradition says that immortals often dwell in them.

On its eastern side, Mount Siming resembles surging, terrifying waves, with seventy high peaks standing in a row like a screen. A single stream flows down and joins Gouzhang. The virtue (De) of two immortals, Dong An and Bao Quan, has also been handed down because of this place. Bao Quan was known for his noble conduct, while Dong An was famed for his filial piety. The Record says that the earthly immortals of Mount Siming all appeared during the Later Han period.

Wang Yin, a divine general of the First Emperor of Qin, once drove the mountains into the sea to fill it, and later drowned. People did not build up a tomb for him, and the place called Yinjiang still exists today. Mount Siming is also called Gouzhang, and Yinjiang took its name from this; the waterway here leads out to the sea.

In front of Mount Dalei lies the Jingshui Grotto (Still Water Grotto). Xie Tiao once lived there reading and chanting scriptures (jing), and so the grotto and the area around Mount Dalei later came to be linked with the name "Great Compassion" (Daci), and belong to Cixi. The springs here share sources and streams that connect with one another.

Mount Dalei was once home to many wild beasts, and hunters often went in and out of the grotto, disturbing its tranquility. Later an immortal, caught in a great thunderstorm, was stranded here, and the mountain received its name from this. During the Jin and Han periods, many worthy men and those who had attained the Dao (the Way) lived in seclusion on this mountain, and the Golden Harrier Grotto (Jinyao Dong) is found there as well.

Several peaks are shaped like lotus petals, and the petal-like contours of the mountain join the Lizhou Grotto. A clear spring flows into a small stream, and hundreds of households around it depend on this place for a settled and secure livelihood.

Furong Peak (Lotus Peak) stands close to the Lizhou Grotto. In the Jin dynasty, a man named Sun Wu entered the mountains and saw ripe pears by the roadside; after eating two or three, he felt full. When he later returned to look for the place, he could not find it again, and so it came to be called the Lizhou Grotto (Pear Isle Grotto).

Nearby rises a tall peak, steep and abrupt in form; on its summit rests a stone casket containing immortal honey.

Below the mountain lies a deep pool, a hundred xun deep (a xun is an ancient unit of length). Someone once took two or three objects from a stone chamber where texts were stored and ate them, and at once felt full. When the person came back to look for the rest, they had vanished. People later gave the place a name because of this.

Beside it rises a lofty, abrupt peak, and on its summit sits a stone casket holding immortal honey.

Beneath the mountain are a deep pool and a stone chamber at its edge, profound and hidden. The place is called Honey Cliff Peak (Miyan Feng), and the casket on its summit is said to hold immortal honey; this place once stirred the stars into response. Below the mountain lies the Dragon Pool, where both officials and common people have come to pray and offer sacrifices. Further down is another pool, called Stone Substance Pool (Shizhi Tan). Within it is a stone chamber that conceals the secret scriptures of the immortals. In the age of Yu the Great, a recluse named Wang Zhen opened it and looked inside in person, and found it utterly marvelous.

The southwestern side of the mountain resembles a running ox, with ridges linked one after another and curved like a hook. There are seventy peaks, large and small, and the foot of the mountain divides into two branches that lead to Yuezhou.

At the mountain's foot lie the two counties of Yuyao and Shangyu, which belong to Zhaozhou, and both water and land routes are open.

Fugui Mountain (Mount Crouching Tortoise) is shaped like a small parrot, with layered peaks of varied forms. Within it are the Three-Blossom and Five-Blossom Peaks, where immortals roam every day. The ranges to the southwest have many strange shapes, and several extraordinary peaks appear and vanish in the mountain mist.

In the Han dynasty, Zhang Pingzi once stayed here and felled timber, which he presented to the attendants of his retinue. Three or five stacks of the planks remain, whose color and resonance are like purple gold, which is truly marvelous. The four corners of the planks are carved with guardian lions, and though they have passed through many kalpas of upheaval, they have never decayed.

Along the stream grow thousands upon thousands of clumps of bamboo, along with medicinal herbs and many kinds of immortal fruits.

In the Han dynasty, Zhang Ziping felled timber on this mountain. Three or five stacks of planks remain there, purple-gold in color and often covered by clouds and rosy mist. In the past, Zhang Chong saw these planks and took a piece of wood five cun long to show to an aide of the Governor of Kuaiji. When the officials had it carved into a butterfly, the wood flew up into the sky.

In the midst of the emerald cliffs stands a rock wall, so high it seems to hide the clouds, several thousand chi tall. Strange fruits grow there that can satisfy a person's hunger, and a mountain stream flows there as though connected with the sea.

When the Jin-dynasty Immortal Ge (Ge Hong, a legendary Daoist immortal) came to this mountain, he saw in the mountain stream a fish six or seven chi long. The Immortal raised his staff and struck at it, and the fish vanished. The mountain spirit said, "Do not disturb it. The stream's water runs to the sea, and this fish often swims here from the ocean."

In the Wei period there was a man named Yang Dezu, who once spoke by the roadside with an immortal of the mountains.

The sight of two immortals holding torches as they searched for a golden blade, and the legend of the inscribed character, come from this story.

When Yang Dezu was wandering in the mountains, he suddenly saw an old man. The old man said, "Go forward, and you will see two immortals raising fire to search for a blade." Yang Dezu did indeed see them, and he said that two fires joined together make the character 炎 (yan), and that adding the search for a golden blade gives the meaning of the character 到 (dao, "to arrive"), which is how the inscribed character came to be. From this the account has been handed down.

On the south side of the mountain, seventy peaks spread out as if driven along like a flock of sheep.

In the Han dynasty, Liu Chen and Ruan Zhao (figures in a legend of men who met immortals in the mountains) lost their way for seven days, and when they returned to the human world, six generations of descendants had passed.

Liu Chen and Ruan Zhao went into the mountains together to gather herbs. They stayed only seven days at the immortals' home, but when they came back they learned that three hundred years had passed in the human world. When they reached home, they even met their descendants of the seventh generation.

In the mountains there is a pond several mu in size, and in a cave beside it an immortal serpent often breathes out vapor.

The serpent's breath turns into clouds and rain, forming scenes like towers and terraces, while the pond's water flows out from many places into Dan Stream.

The water flows out of the mountains carrying the meat dishes that the immortals eat, so the elders pass down the saying that this place is called "Hunhan."

The White Rock waterfall looks like a falling bolt of white silk, its waters all gathering into Purple Stream and spreading onward without end.

In the stream stands a mountain shaped like an overturned basin, where trees interlace and flowers and grasses grow in tangles.

Two peaks are called Great Hui and Small Hui. They block out the sunlight, so that the space between the mountains is dark and heavy, wrapped in a light mist.

The woodcutter Ying Ze once came here to wander. He saw a stone bed several zhang long, surrounded by swirling auspicious clouds.

In the Song dynasty, Ying Ze entered the mountains and suddenly came upon a place of beautiful scenery. As he was about to go on, the vision vanished again. Finding the place dim and gloomy, he did not dare to linger, and this is how the two peaks came to be named Great Hui and Small Hui ("Dark"). Purple Stream is the White Water, and it can be seen close at hand.

The mountains are also said to hold a kind of immortal beast shaped like a rhinoceros. After Fan Yan captured it, he made its hide into a fur coat.

It is said that when one puts on this fur garment, even if standing directly opposite others, they cannot see you; and after you take off the state of concealed form and walk back, people still cannot see you. Yet this invisible state is dim and murky, and one dares not remain in it for long, which is why it is called the "Great Obscurity" and the "Lesser Obscurity." Zixi is the place close to Baishui.

In the mountains there is also a kind of immortal beast, called the rhinoceros. In the Liang dynasty, Fan Yan captured one and made its hide into a fur garment.

When this garment is worn, even if one stands directly opposite others, they cannot see you; it can make a person's bodily form vanish, leaving no trace to be found.

In the Liang dynasty, Fan Yan came to this mountain, saw several rhinoceroses, killed one of them, and stripped its hide to make a fur garment. Once he put it on, his bodily form disappeared and those nearby could not see him, so the garment came to be called the "Cloak of Concealed Form." This mountain lies south of Rixi Mountain.

The north side of the mountain resembles a winding snake, its steep peaks piled layer upon layer, stretching on without end.

There are seventy peaks, no small number; the mountain's shape is like eight pouches, interlocking and linked to one another.

To the north stands Mount Rulin, shaped like an altar, where the crisscrossing ridges again take on the posture of a winding snake.

Two more mountains surge up as if two armies were drawn up in battle formation; a long stream between them divides the mountain's contour, as though separated by a lofty wall.

On the summit of Mount Baozi is a level stone chamber, where the spring water is like sweet dew; it is said that spirit immortals dwell in seclusion there.

Zheng Hong once examined the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhai Jing), which records this spring in detail.

The spring is named "Sacred Water"; its taste is sweet and smooth, and tradition holds that drinking it grants long life.

Two mountains face each other across a ravine, with the stream flowing between them and dividing in all directions; the local people now call them "Great Jiao" and "Lesser Jiao." In the Song dynasty, Zheng Hong found this spring and boiled its water to drink. He also saw sacred images in the stone chamber. In recent times, no one has heard of any accounts of immortals manifesting themselves.

In the Siming Mountains stands a mountain shaped like a crouching tiger, covered all over with blue-green stone, regarded as the root of the mountains.

Seven apertures are carved into these blue-green stones, and auspicious clouds billow from the holes; each aperture can stir up wind and rain.

At the center of the Siming Mountains stands Crouching Tiger Mountain, on which are red stones and catalpa trees, all bearing seven apertures; these apertures are said to be the dwellings of dragon spirits. According to the Classic of Mountains and Seas, a mountain without apertures cannot be counted as a famous mountain.

Books are stored in the stone vault, and washing utensils are kept in the granary; it is said that everything tastes extremely sweet.

There is a twisted length of wood two hundred chi long, whose light at night shines upon the peak of Mount Tan.

Mei Fu once stayed a night in this mountain, where he saw a great many books and scrolls, too numerous to count. The books say that during the Southern Qi dynasty, a woodcutter named He Xin came upon a storehouse of salt and took a little home for his mother to eat. The salt tasted sweet, and within a few days her white hair had turned black again and her face had returned to a child's freshness. When He Xin went back to fetch more, the place could no longer be found. The books also say that he saw a log more than twenty zhang long lying across the mountainside, which often gave off a light that everyone could see.

To the west, the mountain joins Gouzhang, and the Cave of Shun lies in between; to the south, it connects with Mount Tiantai and reaches deep into the earth's veins. To the north, it encircles Cuijie, where the mountain holds its source dear. Sages on earth and immortals in heaven appear here at times and at times vanish.

These are the "four limits" of Mount Siming, that is, its boundaries in the four directions.

Mount Siming stretches vast and wide, eight hundred li in circumference, and since ancient times the marvels and auspicious events here have been too many to record one by one. Mei Fu dwelt in this mountain after becoming an immortal; Liu Gang, who once served as a county magistrate, practiced the Dao (the Way) here together with his wife, Lady Fan.

In the time of King Jing of Zhou, a righteous man named Yi Chang traveled to this mountain and was the first to attain the Dao and ascend as an immortal here. Later, Mei Fu also came to the mountain. One night he dreamed that a man said to him, "Yi Chang of the Zhou era transformed into an immortal in this mountain, and his remains are hidden in the Heavenly Well." The next morning, Mei Fu indeed found the remains in the Heavenly Well; the bones had not yet decayed, so he buried them again.

In the Eastern Han, Liu Gang, courtesy name Bojing, served as magistrate of Shangyu County. He and his wife, Lady Fan Yunqiao, lived on Mount Siming, and both perfected the path of immortality. One day they climbed Mount Dalan Fuqiu and ascended into flight, riding upon a giant tree.

Eulogy on the Biography of Lord Liu, Magistrate of Shangyu in Wu

Lord Ling, styled Bojing and named Gang, was a native of Xianaren. He first lived on Mount Siming and later served as magistrate of Shangyu County. He took Master Bai as his teacher and studied the arts of the Dao (the Way) under him. After many years of cultivation he finally attained the Dao, and so he invited his relatives and friends to gather. When everyone had finished eating and drinking, he climbed a tall fir tree, more than ten zhang above the ground, raised his hand to bid the company farewell, and at once flew into the clouds and departed. His wife, Lady Fan, also possessed the arts of the Dao, and the two ascended to heaven together. The present-day Baishui Temple was built to commemorate his traces. His story is recorded in Ge Zhichuan's Biographies of Divine Immortals (Shenxian zhuan) and in the Stele of Baishui Temple.

The eulogy says: How great is the distance between the immortals of heaven and the people of the world? In truth they all lodge within the same dusty realm. Worldly people have narrow vision, and so they divide the illusory from the real. When Lord Liu ascended to heaven, it was like walking to a neighbor's house; water poured into water is of one kind, and so naturally they draw close.

Eulogy for Master Kong of the Song Dynasty

Master Kong's courtesy name has been lost; his given name was You, and he was a great-grandson of Jingkang. He was of lofty and pure conduct and moved the spirits (Shen) by his sincerity, living in seclusion on Mount Siming in Kuaiji. Once he saw several hundred hu of coins (a hu being an ancient unit of volume) piled up in a mountain valley, yet he regarded them as no different from tiles and stones. Woodcutters scrambled to seize them, but as soon as the coins reached their hands, they turned into gravel.

A deer struck by an arrow once came to Master Kong for refuge. He treated its wound, and only when it had healed did the deer leave. The prefect Wang Sengqian wished to appoint him as registrar, but he never consented to take office.

Master Kong's son, Daohui, was on good terms with Du Jingqi. From his youth he strove to cultivate lofty conduct and was able to carry on the family tradition. He lived in seclusion on Mount Nan and never entered a city for the rest of his life. Prince Yuzhang of Qi (a member of the Southern Qi imperial house) intended to appoint him to an office in Yangzhou and summoned him to serve as a clerk in the Western Bureau (a subordinate official post), but he went to neither. The people of his village revered him. Daohui's nephew, Zong, also held firm principles; even when suffering cold and hunger, he would not seek clothing or food from others. The county magistrate Qiu Zhongfu recommended him for the post of attendant gentleman to the Prince of Jingling, but in the end he never took up the appointment either. His story is recorded in the "Biographies of Recluses" in the History of the Southern Dynasties (Nan shi).

The eulogy says: The greedy chase after profit, and sometimes even lose their lives guarding hidden treasure. Master Kong was unmoved by wealth and regarded it as no more than tiles and rubble. The elegant tradition of his family shaped later generations, and his nephew too showed uncommon insight. A whole household kept to upright integrity; this is the virtue (De) their ancestors left behind.

Inscription for Mount Siming

Written by Wei Su of Linchuan, Hanlin Scribe, Gentleman of the Wenlin Office, Co-Administrator of Imperial Edicts, and Compiler in the Office of National History.

Seventy li south of Yuyao County stands a mountain whose range stretches across two hundred and eighty peaks. To the east it joins Mount Juzhang, to the south it meets Mount Tiantai, and to the north it encircles Mount Cuijie. The main peak is the tallest, and on it are four caverns that open like doors and windows, letting the light of the sun and moon shine through. For this reason it is called the "Four Brightnesses Grotto-Heaven" (Siming Dongtian, one of the Daoist grotto-heavens and blessed lands). Clouds and mist often shroud the mountain. The First Emperor of Qin once ordered his minister Wang Yin to drive the mountains before him and fill in the seas; the many spirits were pressed into service and fled into this place, and so it is also called "Ghost-Hiding Mountain."

Liu Gang of the Han dynasty, courtesy name Bojing, served as magistrate of Shangyu County and was a native of Xianai. He later settled in these mountains and learned the arts of the immortals from Master Bai. One day he bade farewell to his relatives and friends, climbed Dalan Hill, and ascended into the heavens while clinging to a great tree. His wife, Lady Fan, ascended after him; her shoes were left beneath the tree, and she herself transformed into a tiger. When word of this reached the imperial court, a shrine was built on the spot, and sacrifices were offered there in spring and autumn.

In the Song period, the recluse Kong You saw several hundred hu of coins lying in a valley, yet regarded them as no different from tiles and stones. Woodcutters scrambled to seize them, and the coins turned to sand and gravel. A deer, struck by an arrow, ran to Kong You for refuge; he took it in and cared for it, and only after its wound had healed did the deer depart.

In the third year of the Tianbao era of the Tang, Emperor Xuanzong judged that the shrine of Lord Liu stood in a place too steep and remote. He therefore commanded the Daoist Cui Jie and the recluse Li Jian to relocate the shrine to the foot of the mountain, twenty li from its original site, which was also the place where Lord Liu had practiced cultivation. At the end of the Song, the eminent scholar Xie Yichen lived in seclusion here. Lu Guimeng and Pi Rixiu both visited, and each composed nine poems in exchange with the other.

During the Zhenghe era of Emperor Huizong of the Song, the emperor himself wrote an inscribed plaque for this place, calling it the "Site of Elixir Refining" (Danlian Chu). He also ordered a Hall of the Jade Emperor to be built and, following the rites of the Daoist masters, presented offerings of a true golden dragon and jade tablets, which are still preserved today. Those who take charge of burning incense and maintaining the practice succeed one another in turn, according to the order of the sexagenary stems Jia and Yi. The court now honors this mountain with the ritual protocol due to famous mountains, and bestows incense and silk; yet the halls have tilted and fallen into disrepair, long neglected.

The lineage of this place originated at the Sanhua Daoist Academy on Mount Longhu, in Guangxin. After Mao Yongzhen inherited the transmission, he enlarged the buildings until the place could rightly be called a dwelling of immortals and spirits. Mao's disciple Hao Guohong, a native of Linchuan, asked me to compose an inscription in seal script, to be carved upon the mountain rock. The inscription reads:

The peaks of the mountains of Yue,

Their rocks and caverns exquisite.

When the heavens are about to rain,

Drifting clouds enfold the mountain.

The Perfected One ascended and departed,

Leaving his shoes beneath the tree.

In the ancient grotto the waters murmur,

White cranes wheel and descend to rest.

Jade youths gather green tangerines;

Eat them, and you will live forever without death.

I, Shi Su, have composed this inscription, solemnly to inform later generations.

During the Zhizhi era, I was studying at Mount Longhu (Dragon and Tiger Mountain) in Xinzhou, and it happened that Master Zhu Zhenyi, a fellow native of my home district, was living in the same place. His disciple Mao Yongzhen often attended him, quiet and sparing of words, pure and sincere in character. After finishing his duties he would come to visit me, and we often talked at leisure and got along harmoniously. Later he left and went into seclusion in the mountains of Yuyao. News of him grew faint, and we no longer heard of one another.

Twenty-eight years later, his disciple Wu Guohong came to the capital and asked me to compose an inscription for Mount Siming, where the master lived, and only then did I learn that the master was still well. Twelve years after that, the master's disciple Xue Yi lost the engraved map of the mountain and asked me again to supplement what the map had not recorded. By this reckoning, I had not seen the master for forty years. I held office and was occupied with worldly affairs, yet I heard that the master lived at ease in seclusion in a remote place by the sea, his mind calm and single-pointed, seeking nothing from the world. I could feel only admiration.

In former times, Liu Gang, magistrate of Shangyu, and his wife ascended and became immortals; the recluse Kong You spent money to save a deer; Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang relocated and rebuilt a shrine; Lu Luwang and Pi Xiemei exchanged poems here; and Emperor Huizong of the Song inscribed a plaque for the cavern-heaven, built the Hall of the Jade Emperor, and cast a golden dragon and jade tablet into the mountain. The master knew all of these matters. In the old shrine there still remain such place names as Ascending-Immortal Mountain, Ascending-Immortal Tree, Yunnan, Yunbei, and Guoyun. The Kuaiji Gazetteer says that Xie Yichen lived in seclusion at Nanlei, where there is now the Great Thunder Peak; none of this was recorded on the map.

The map also depicts Santai Peak, the Stone House at Cloud's Root, the Dragon Pool, Medicine-Washing Creek, and Chanyuan Cave. The Siming Prefectural Gazetteer says that Mount Siming lies one hundred thirty li northeast of the city. Its mass surges upward in two hundred eighty peaks, of which thirty-six each have openings for passage, arranged to the east, west, south, and north. Seen from Yuyao, it is the Western Siming. These too were things the master did not write into the map.

Wu Zhenyang, a disciple of Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhang Xujing of the Song dynasty, once studied at the Sanhua Daoist Academy on Mount Longhu and took the name Master Hunpu. Later he came to roam this mountain. Emperor Huizong summoned him to serve as Gentleman of the Cinnabar Grove and Collator of Registers at the Hall of Concentrated Spirit, but he did not respond to the summons. Later the court posthumously honored Liu Gang as True Lord of Ascended Mystery and Luminous Righteousness, and his wife, Lady Fan, as Primal Lady of Ascended Perfection and Wondrous Transformation. The chancellor, Lord Zhang of Wei, was on good terms with Wu Zhenyang's disciple Zhu Kongrong and submitted a memorial recommending Zhu Kongrong as a Perfected One. Zhu Kongrong's descendants passed down the lineage through the generations in the order of the heavenly stems Jia and Yi. The master likewise did not write these matters into the map.

The master built the Qinghui Pavilion beneath the waterfall and also constructed the Stone Field Mountain Lodge, where he rested and recuperated; all this came after I had written the inscription for him. Among the poems and rhapsodies left in the mountains, those before Lu Luwang and Pi Xiemei of the Tang include works by Meng Dongye and Liu Wenfang; the Song dynasty has Xie Shihou and others; and in our present dynasty there are Master Huang Wenxian and others. The master also planned to have these poems and rhapsodies engraved and circulated.

According to the Kuaiji Gazetteer, the locals commonly call this place the Palace of White Water, and it also says there was a stele of the White Water Temple. Because the two terms "shrine" and "temple" duplicate each other in meaning, it should now be called the White Temple. I have read the Record of Protecting Yue by Xu Mianzhi of Fanyi, a provincial tribute scholar, which says that the war in the Yue region was extremely severe, yet Mount Siming was not disturbed by the fighting. The master lived at ease in the mountains, eating in security and sleeping in peace. This is just as the ancients spoke of the Peach Blossom Spring of Wuling, and it truly is such a place. For this reason I have written this record, to be engraved in stone together with the inscription and passed down.

The master's courtesy name was Shanqing, and Master Xue's courtesy name was Maohong. Those who later assisted in this undertaking were Pan Wenxin, Sheng Yuanpu, and Xu Yonghe.

On the first day of the third month of the twenty-second year of the Zhizheng era, a dingwei day, recorded by Wei Su of Linchuan, Grand Master for Comprehensive Counsel, Participant in Governance of the Secretariat, Co-Administrator of the Classics Colloquium, and Commissioner for Reviewing and Determining Advice Submitted from All Quarters.

Sixty li south of Yuyao Prefecture stands Siming Mountain, where the "Cinnabar Mountain and Red Water Grotto-Heaven" (Danshan Chishui Dongtian, one of the Daoist grotto-heavens of famous mountains) is found. In the Han dynasty, Liu Gang, magistrate of Shangyu County, once cultivated himself here and later ascended to heaven. On the mountain there is a Daoist temple called Ciyu Temple; the dwelling beside it, called Stone Field Mountain Lodge, was built by the Daoist master Mao Yongzhen.

In earlier times, the thirtieth Celestial Master (Tianshi), Zhang Xujing, transmitted his Daoist arts to the Perfected Hao of the Sanhua Court at Shangqing Palace, and the Ruan family in turn inherited his teaching and lived on this mountain. Emperor Huizong of the Song, hearing of their worthiness, summoned them to court, but they did not answer the call. The court therefore enlarged the place where they lived. The lineage of Ciyu Temple derives from the Sanhua Court; generation after generation the Sanhua Court has guarded Ciyu Temple and made it a place for cultivation and residence.

During the reign of our dynasty's Emperor Ren, the realm was at peace. The two great masters of the Xuanjiao order, Zhang and Hao, successively held office at court. The Sanhua Court had a master named Zhu Ben, styled Zhenyi, who was at first praised by high officials for his wide learning and refined elegance. Master Mao studied under him; Master Zhu was very fond of Mao, and the two great masters also held him in high regard. Later Master Mao received an order from the order's headquarters to return to the mountain and take charge of the affairs of Ciyu Temple.

By then Ciyu Temple had fallen into considerable disrepair. After Master Mao took charge, he rebuilt whatever had collapsed and repaired whatever had been damaged. Now, nearly forty years later, he remains as diligent in his upkeep as he was at the beginning. In his spare time he withdraws to the mountain lodge, burns incense, and sits in stillness, never allowing external things to burden his heart and spirit.

Around the lodge rise lofty cliffs and steep rock walls. Springs and waterfalls gush and spray, crisscrossing as they pour down, with the force of rivers hanging in midair. The rocks below are uneven and interlocked, sprawling in countless forms, so that nearly everywhere is stone. Calamus, river chariot (hechē), lingzhi mushrooms, cocklebur, and other plants can be gathered by hand in sufficient quantity; but as for grains such as rice, sorghum, millet, and banana-like crops, even when planted, not one or two parts in ten can be harvested. This is why the place is called "Stone Field."

Xue Yifu also studied the learning of Master Zhenyi and lived in seclusion on Baiwu Mountain. Baiwu Mountain lies near Shangqing Palace. Later he came to Stone Field, was moved by its serene and beautiful scenery, and was the first to write poems about it. When he reached the capital, he said to the scholars and officials: "Stone Field has fine scenery, and Master Mao is a man of virtue. I too intend to follow him and spend my remaining years here." Thereupon each person composed poems, altogether a number of pieces. Master Xue asked me to write a preface for them.

Laozi once advocated "knowing the masculine yet keeping to the feminine" (understanding the way of strength while abiding in softness and stillness). I believe that only one who has truly received the transmission of the Dao can make the mind empty, still, and unattached, abandon splendor and opulence, and be content with a solitary, remote life. In this way the spirit (Shen) is settled and one's true nature is gladdened, the self is preserved, and the work of cultivation advances. Someone like Master Mao comes close to this.

In times of peace, people often exhaust their hearts and wits contending for fertile, wealthy lands and building tall, spacious, magnificent mansions; such people are everywhere. Compared with them, Stone Field seems as far apart as heaven and earth. Yet after ten years of continuous warfare, places once famed for wealth and splendor, such as Weiyang and Henan, have been ruined and trampled, with little left. The field paths that once ran east and west have become wild grass and wasteland smoke; the pavilions and houses that were once warm in winter and cool in summer now survive only as broken walls and crumbled foundations. If one wished to find another place like Stone Field Mountain Lodge, could it still be found? From this I understand Master Mao's wisdom, and I understand that he truly inherited his teacher's transmission.

I respectfully write this preface for the poems and entrust it to Master Xue to present on my behalf. Written on the first day of the tenth month of the twenty-first year of Zhengzheng [1361], by Lu Jian of Linchuan.

A Tang poet sends off Master Xiao (a Daoist priest) returning to Mount Siming (the mountains around present-day Ningbo, Zhejiang)

Master Xiao's mind is calm and unhurried, as free as a solitary crane, and his years seem longer than those of the tallest pine. He rises above the myriad things and dwells on the summit of Mount Siming. The peaks soar a thousand fathoms high, and springs pour down from a hundred feet above. Crimson snow (a medicinal elixir or immortal food in Daoist legend) is my meal, and white clouds are my fields. We speak quietly and never of worldly affairs; I often wander through realms of spiritual wonder, as if walking in the heavens.

Roaming the Four Windows, by Liu Zhangqing

Mount Siming is extraordinary and without equal, and since ancient times people have said it is worth the climb. Its dark cliffs rise straight into the sky, and the overhanging rocks press down like a roof. The stones are delicately carved, as if fitted with doors and windows. The four sides open wide and bright, like a chamber with four windows. The Winnowing Basket constellation (Ji) lies over the southern fields, while to the north the Dipper hangs as if from the eaves. The sun and moon take their places in the east and west, and morning and dusk alternate, appearing and fading.

Coming here to wander, I wrap half a length of cloth around my head at random and entrust myself to a free and expansive mood. The white clouds have no fixed intent and drift along idly, keeping company with me in my solitude. Facing such a scene, I cast off the bonds of the world and at once forget honor and disgrace, gain and loss. I laugh aloud, and how vast heaven and earth are! The pure breeze of the immortals stirs my jade pendants until they chime.

Nine Chants, by Lu Guimeng

Stone Window

Where can the Stone Window be seen? It towers ten thousand fathoms, leaning against the clear sky. Layers of mist veil its azure lattice, and the lingering rosy clouds light up its ornate frame. The mountains seem arranged in rounded, graceful forms, and the palaces appear to join Fangzhu (a legendary immortal mountain). Here there is only the Guest of Three Peaks (an immortal or recluse living on the three peaks), who often comes to collate the books of reclusive cultivation.

Passing the Clouds

To visit, one must travel a stretch of cloud road; deep in the mist, the path is almost impossible to make out. As the sunlight brightens, the Whistling Terrace comes into view, and the sound of a woodcutter's axe drifts on the wind. Looking at the morning, I find my clothes already soaked through with dew; I drink wine in the cold air, yet the wine's warmth does not fade. My thoughts of retreat grow calm several times over, and at last I meet Master Su (the identity of this person is unclear).

South of the Clouds

South of the clouds there is another stream, and along its banks the red pebbles seem free of any mud. Medicinal herbs are sold here by Ba Bin (a place name or personal name; the original reference is unclear), and on the branches the dark birds of Yue often call. The night is clear, and the moon seems to rise before it is even midnight; autumn is drawing near, and the mountain haze grows slowly thicker. If I could live in these mountains, I would gather lingzhi mushrooms and fungi with my own hands.

North of the Clouds

To the north, near the Yangchuan region, village cottages join the mountain caves. An altar is set beneath the stars, and pavilions rise on the green mountainside. Far peaks are half-shrouded in rain, and mist rises beside the ancient three-eyed well. If a road leads to the Golden Court (a legendary realm of immortals), one could surely reach the Heaven of the Left Spirit (a celestial realm in Daoist legend).

Deer Pavilion

The Deer Pavilion stands beneath the rocks, and white deer often pass by. The grass is soft and fine, so the deer seem able to sleep for a long time; the spring water is fragrant, so they come naturally to drink. Hearing a deer call, one arrives at a mountain hollow lit by the moon; following the narrow path, one reaches the vines wreathed in mist. One hopes that someday to swallow the golden liquid (an immortality elixir in Daoist lore) and ride an immortal mount up to the Vermilion River (the legendary Heavenly River).

Fan Pavilion

When was this ancient pavilion built? People say that someone once ascended to immortality here in broad daylight. Even today, mountain folk tell of immortals who often return riding jade qilin (jade-colored mythical beasts). Tender green stalactites hang like milk among the pine boughs, and the stone terraces where lingzhi herbs grow appear and vanish in the mist. Leaning on the railing and gazing far into the distance, one's eyes stretch on and on, yet the robes of the immortals are nowhere to be seen.

Murmuring Cave

A waterfall rushes down from the mist-wrapped foot of the mountain, its murmuring sound unbroken for ten thousand ages. It seems to play a pair of feathered pipes, or to strum a zither of sunset clouds. The current dashes through the inverted cave, throwing up spray like dragon foam; passing through the pine forest, it soaks robes as white as cranes. Who plays here by moonlight? Surely someone chanting melodies of the Shangqing (Supreme Purity) realm.

Green Lattice Fruit

This mountain fruit is called the green lattice, growing in clusters along the ridge. Its rind is hard and its flesh is green; its inner flavor rivals the immortal delicacy of fine jade. When the fruit falls on the rocks, woodcutters pick it up; when they strike the trees, they startle the roosting crows. Surely there are also immortal officials guarding it, who often gather it as an offering to the celestial city.

Ju Monkeys

Why are they called "Ju monkeys"? They were first enfeoffed on Mount Siming. They merely link arms as they drink, and do not utter mournful, piercing cries. Wild vines let down fine tassels, and the cold spring runs clear as jade, turning as it is worn smooth by the stones. Among the scholars wandering all over the mountain, who will become a minister of state?

Stone Window — Pi Rixiu and Lu Guimeng

The stone window seems to have been opened by the spirit of creation, and from every side one can see green cliffs. Moss dyes it like brocade, and when mist drifts in, it is like gauze. Moonlight passes through the empty lattice, and beside the door it seems that rosy clouds are reflected. I do not yet know where it finally leads; surely it connects to the dwelling of the Jade Maidens, among the immortals.

Passing Clouds

The Pink Grotto stretches on for twenty li, and only secluded dwellers walk within it. In a moment I lost all trace of the deer, and after a few steps I could no longer hear human voices. With my staff I parted the hazy green, and my robe brushed against a faint glimmer of light. I walked a long while without reaching the end. Perhaps this is the road to the tiered immortal cities.

Yunnan (South of the Clouds)

Yunnan leans against a mountain range so high that even crows cannot reach its peaks. Red peonies grow in the villages, and clear spring water wells up from every household. The children seem to have lived here since ancient times, and the people marry as immortals do. All have become residents under the Perfected Officials (zhenguan, immortal officials of Daoist attainment), and they no longer pay taxes on their fields.

Yunbei (North of the Clouds)

Yunbei is dim even by day, as if it had turned its back on the Star of Longevity (Shouxing, the star symbolizing long life). The dogs can tell herbs by their scent, and the people paint the shapes of the lingzhi mushroom. Resting in the wilds, one finds pine trees shading like canopies, and when drunk, one writes inscriptions on the shaggy stone screens. Burn incense and dwell here, and surely one could enter the Golden Court (Jinting, the realm of immortals).

Deer Pavilion

Many deer live here, so one suspects having arrived in the immortal realm behind the Star of Longevity. The dogs can tell herbs by their scent, and the people paint the shapes of the lingzhi mushroom. Resting in the wilds, one finds pine trees shading like canopies, and when drunk, one writes inscriptions on the shaggy stone screens. Burn incense and dwell here, and surely one could enter the Golden Court.

Deer grass grows thick here, as though deer always rested in this place, and so I came to the lintel covered by white clouds. While waiting for the singer, I leaned a long time beside the flowers; to avoid the world's dust, my steps through the bamboo grove slowed. All day I drank the clear water of the jade stream and breathed in my fill of the Golden Zhi (jinzhi, the fabled herb of immortality). Dwelling beneath a stone window, I became an immortal without even noticing.

Fanxie

The master has already taken a place among the immortals, yet the old pavilions remain, alone. From within the stone cave come the sounds of people and barking dogs, and the pine winds startle the sleeping deer. The well water is fragrant, as if it were material for refining the great elixir; the cranes' cries sound like the faint, ethereal music of the immortals. I wished to buy a place where I could live in seclusion for good, but the cloud-peaks do not sell for money.

Chanyuan Grotto

The water pours down from ten thousand feet, murmuring all day without cease. Its sound seems to shatter a bright moon, and it seems to melt half the sky. The roar is loud and shakes the valley; the current is swift, as if it were sweeping up the clouds in whirls. I imagine that on deep autumn nights, the immortals of old all come to the water's edge.

Qinglingzi

The mountain wind ripens this rare fruit, and at night it is used as an offering to the perfected immortals. Its flavor is as sweet as the essence of clouds, and its shape is round and smooth like jade marrow. Wild cranes often come to peck at it, and half of the places where the fruit falls lie beside the spirit spring. It must be of the same kind as the immortal fruit of the Peach Blossom Spring, and no one remembers how many years its blossoms have been opening.

Juhou

How enviable is the land of the Ju monkeys, where the green cliffs rise layer upon layer. Vines coil around the mountains like seal ribbons, and the fruits are lustrous and round like jade marrow.

How enviable is the Land of the Ju Monkeys: its emerald-green rocks lie layer upon layer, too many to count. The trailing vines are like the seals and ribbons of office worn by officials, and the blossoms and fruits in the valleys are like the produce of a fief. The company sent a monkey keeper (juguan, the one who tends the macaques) across the river, and sure enough, the monkeys offered up their fruit. If you people could attain long life and never die, surely you could ascend to the realm of the mysterious immortals.

Poems by Worthies of the Song Dynasty

Waterfall — Xie Shihou and Jingchu

A rushing stream pours down from the blue-green cliffs, and the waterfall towers steep and perilous, as though it were ten thousand zhang high. The water seems to rush down from the heavens, and from afar it looks like a broad bolt of white silk. Winding ridges lie beyond the verdant trees; before the waterfall comes into view, one has already heard its long-echoing sound. Beside the waterfall lies a great boulder, flat and smooth, where one may lean over to gaze down or look up at the surroundings. Worldly people cannot reach this place, so those of us here naturally come to admire it. When the autumn colors are clear and still, we shall climb the vines to draw near it.

Wandering in Siming — Sun Jihe and Ying Shi

All my life I have held lofty aspirations. I would take up my sword and set out to roam far and wide. Lately I have turned my back on the snares of fame and profit and lodged my thoughts among mountain crags and valley streams. I once sailed across the vast sea and traveled south to Danqiu. To the west I climbed Mount Min and Mount Emei and gave a long, ringing whistle. To the north I gazed toward Guanzhong and Longyou, my heart stirred with emotion. Mount Lu held back the reins that would have taken me home, and Wu Gorge made my boat turn aside. Jiange is the most perilous and imposing of all, and Longmen the more strange and secluded. Though I have not yet roamed to my heart's content, I have roughly taken in the splendors along the way. Now I lie at rest by Bamboo Lake, often wandering through long, clear dreams. My home is Mount Siming, whose fame has spread everywhere. When I step outside it seems to stand before my eyes, yet whenever I long to go there, my wish is so often denied. The affairs of this world truly are full of contradictions. Could the spirits of the mountain be set against me?

Now that I am nearing old age, I can only sigh and reproach myself in vain. But it is the fragrant, lovely season of spring, and I have been fortunate to find companions who share my inclinations. Packing for the journey is no trouble, so I quickly whip up my horse and set off to fulfill my wish. In the middle of the night the sound of rain ceased, and at dawn the clouds parted and the weather cleared. The sky was bright and the breeze mild and gentle. I leaned on a slender staff and rode in a bamboo sedan chair, dressed in plain clothes suited to travel with a light fur robe over them. Pointing far off toward the wooded hills, I listened with delight to the sound of flowing springs. I put on my wooden clogs, climbed Qingyan Ridge, and halted in the White Water district. The rapids babbled, and wind whistled through the strange pines.

I climbed the steep Yang'e Mountain until I was out of breath from exhaustion. I steadied myself against the rocks to keep from slipping, while a woodcutter carrying firewood sang by the roadside. After passing through layer upon layer of winding mountain paths, I could at last look far into the distance with a free heart, and a thousand li of scenery lay within my sight. The peaks rolled on without end, and the grain of the mountain ranges crossed and interlaced. The creative transformations of Nature had wondrously fused with the stones, as if some divine hand had carved them in search of marvels. A long wind stirred the dim, far-off sea, and great waves tossed the immortal mountains in the waters. Giant turtles bore islands on their backs, and coiling dragons twisted and bent. Whales and the great peng bird roamed at ease, and aquatic creatures gathered in dense swarms. Countless strange and wondrous sights rose and fell in succession, and among the thousand sails, some moved on while others lay at anchor.

Some mountains were flat like a tabletop, others towered like a cap. Some were ranged like swords and halberds, others etched like spears and lances. Some resembled phoenixes dancing, others galloping steeds. Some looked like fierce beasts at play, others like divine creatures in combat. The peaks before my eyes then seemed to change into scenes from history. Some were like feudal lords bringing jade and silk to pay court to the Son of Heaven, and some like the great hunt at the covenant of Qiyang. Some were like the desperate battle of Changping, and some like the two armies holding their lines at Honggou. Across the wide plain, chariots and cavalry seemed to stand in ranks, and the central camp was grim with fortifications. Since heaven and earth were opened, the scenery has been boundless and its transformations unceasing. I gazed in astonishment, almost unable to speak, for it was truly beyond description in words.

Here, too, stands an immortal tree, its trunk forty armspans around, its coiling roots having endured who knows how many years. The old branches are withered yet not dead, and new ones put forth tender green leaves. It is said that an immortal once halted his carriage here, but whether the tale of the blue sea turning into mulberry fields has come true cannot be verified. The relics are indeed as the legends say, but how is one to cultivate the Dao (the Way), become an immortal, and rise lightly into flight?

Heading southeast across the high ridges, I found level fields on both sides. Villages and households lay scattered about, with chickens and dogs within earshot, and sheep and cattle coming and going. The firewood and charcoal levied by the officials had already been prepared, and in the spring plowing season people were busy hoeing. The soil here is thick and rich with little sand or gravel, but the climate is rather cold, and wheat does not grow easily. Peach and plum trees grow along the remote, lonely paths, and pines stand amid the dense shade. A place like this is enough to hide from the world. Why should one ride a carriage any farther?

Cliffs stand side by side, and beneath the sheer rock walls other peaks vie to rise higher. Who says the temples elsewhere are finer? Having come this far, how could I stop halfway? Zhangxi Temple stands on a precipitous site, and the road to Mount Xuedou is also long. In the morning the mist and clouds spread thick, and by day the mountain wind howls. I followed the winding stone steps across the Square Bridge, where broad halls joined with towering pavilions. The halls were adorned with ornaments like pearls and jade, and the red and the gold and azure shone upon one another. After the bell was struck, many monks gathered for the vegetarian meal. After the wooden board was beaten, lamplight lit up the many chambers. It was as though one lived in the heavens, far from the cares of the human world. The surroundings are rich in scenery, enough to enjoy at leisure.

Gazing far off, the lovely hues of Miaofeng Peak appear, and the waters of Brocade Mirror Lake are clear and bright. Two waterfalls rush on without rest, and a cascade a thousand zhang high pours down. The deep pool reflects the gleam of the falls, and in it a spirit rainbow seems to appear and vanish. Looking down upside-down, I felt dizzy and my heart quaked, and bending to scoop up water, I found it cool enough to rinse the mouth. In the mountain stream wild grasses grew in tufts both high and low, and among the rocks wildflowers bloomed sparsely. On the cliffs I could see gibbons leaping and climbing, and from the forest came the sound of deer gnawing at the plants. The day was long, and birds sang and warbled in the courtyards, and when the mist grew dim, birdsong came again. The tall bamboos made sounds like reed pipes and zithers, and the slender streams rang as clear as jade chimes. Magpies played freely, while the doves, fearing rain, cried out mournfully.

I do not know when I will again share a vegetarian meal with you all, so for now let me offer a cup of tea. The old monk was warm and, hearing that I have some reputation, was willing to take me in. I casually took lodging in a mountain monk's cell, unable to sleep, listening to the night watch drums mark the hours. I recalled that I was once ten thousand li away, and now I have come to a corner at the edge of the world. Climbing high and gazing afar, I saw heaven and earth stretch wide, which eased my heart and also made me sigh at the passing years. Honor and disgrace are no more than the quarrels on a snail's horn, and meeting and parting are like gulls over the sea, coming and going without fixed course. The entanglements of the dusty world bind people, who contend with one another in the arena of fame and profit. If one ignores the secluded resentment of the gibbons and cranes, those creatures of the mountains, then even the mountains and waters will feel shamed.

Only in my late years have I at last fulfilled my wish, and I still count myself fortunate to have escaped the cares of worldly carriages and horses. For my mountain-roaming gear, I may follow Zhi Dun and Xu Xun, but in my unusual conduct I am not as unrestrained as Ruan Ji and Liu Ling. I am like the pheasant on the mountain ridge, content in its freedom, or like the little fish in the Hao River, swimming at ease. For now I will follow Sun Chuo in the delight of writing rhapsodies on landscapes, and I do not wish to be trapped by banishment as Liu Zongyuan was. May those who understand my heart come to meet me and play for me a clear and ringing melody in the shang mode.

Ode to the Ascension-Immortal Tree

Here Liu and Fan shed their mortal husks and ascended to the realm of the immortals. The old tree of that time now towers into the clouds.

Though half its trunk has withered and rotted, it still looks graceful and lustrous; fresh bark has grown over the aged, weathered bark, adding to its vitality and splendor.

The immortal peach often takes three thousand years to ripen; the bronze figure (a statue commonly found in ancient palaces) has stood for five hundred years, and still people reach out to stroke it.

The immortal turned into a crane and departed, and has not yet returned; the mountain lies utterly silent. I wander and look about in every direction, but whom can I ask the reason for it all?

Ode to the Green-Lattice Seed Washing

The immortal seems to have just returned from the dwelling of the Celestial Emperor, the joy of the banquet not yet exhausted. In drunkenness, the immortal tossed the green fruit onto fragrant soil, leaving it for the immortals to plant as they please.

Visiting Master Hunpu Hao

I do not know when the Master went into seclusion on Mount Siming, but from then on all contact with ordinary worldly people has been severed. The Emperor holds a place open and waiting, yet the Master will not enter the city. Wind and thunder seem to rise everywhere, and palaces appear as though descending from the sky. Lately it is a joy that traveling by sedan chair is smooth and steady, so why worry that one's hair has already turned gray?

Written on Touring Siming, Inscribed for Tang Jingshi Zhen of Mount Dan

The radiance of Mount Siming illuminates the lofty heavens, and the immortals come and go day after day through its gardens of the immortal realm.

A waterfall seems to pour down from afar like the Milky Way; the cave gate stays shut year-round, and only white clouds drift idly past.

The auspicious trees in the deep valley shimmer with a golden luster, while the strange rocks on the summit bear iron-blue markings.

Many traces of the immortals remain here, yet no one in the world can recognize them; only the fragrance of fallen blossoms drifts away on the murmuring stream.

Touring Mount Dan, with Sun Yuanshi and Zixiu

Mount Siming is one of the Daoist "grotto-heavens" (dongtian), ranked ninth. The divine giant Juling split the rock, as though opening doors and windows.

I climb through vines and tread rugged mountain paths without the least fear of hardship; my companions, though of differing ages, share my aspirations.

Ancient moss covers the stones like a still, blue-black tiger; a flying cascade hangs from the cliff, its roar like a jade dragon's cry.

The scenery before me is broad and bright, and both people and surroundings gladden the heart. In my drunkenness I strike the earthen vessel and sing, forgetting my capacity for wine and the count of cups.

I truly understand that within the gourd there is another world; and the joy of the drunken old man does not necessarily lie in the drinking itself.

I wander beneath the moon, my mind at ease, almost forgetting to return. The affairs of the world are like floating clouds, so in the end what is there worth holding on to?

I climbed Baishui Mountain with a friend, seeking out a quiet and beautiful place. The silver-white waterfall surged as though it were churning moonlight, and the emerald cliffs rose against the sky, breathing a chill. We passed through mist-shrouded hollows to gather herbs, then sat beside a stone altar to play chess. Only when the sky had grown late did we realize we had forgotten the road home; so we picked autumn orchids, wove them into ornaments, and wore them at our sides.

Another poem, composed by Feng Xia Yin Sun:

Since ten thousand ages past, the secluded depths of the Cinnabar Mountain (Danshan) grotto have lain hidden, and today at last I am able to visit them. The lofty waterfall throws up spray like cold snow, and the ancient cliffs at dusk seem already deep in autumn. A tamed tiger has followed the immortal away, while in the high hall a portrait of the immortal still remains. My only regret is that I returned so quickly, before I could thoroughly explore the hidden wonders of the mountain.

In praise of the waterfall, composed by Guo Baiyun Hengjia:

I could gaze all day and never tire; my spirit (Shen) feels clear and fresh, as if my very bones had been touched by immortal air. The sound of the falls makes it seem that another night of rain has been added, and its majestic force overwhelms the many springs sounding together among the hills. Water strikes the rocks and thunders through the valley; hanging from the cliff, the fall is like a long sword leaning against the heavens. Because I love marvelous scenery I forget that I am old, and still wish to climb the steepest summit.

Another poem, by Zhao Danshan:

The jade-dragon waterfall roars toward the peaks as though it had burst the cliff wall open, its churning waters surging forth, tumbling like ghosts and spirits emerging. When the swirling wind blows, it seems to turn into flying rain; together we listen to the roar among the many ravines, like spring thunder.

Another poem, by Zhao Zhuyi Zhidao:

The cold spring pours down in flight, its force soaring; when I first heard it, the sound was like the tide of the Zhe River surging in. Beneath the dense shade of the pines the mist stays damp all year even without rain; among the rocks, even in clear weather, the snow-like spray seems never to disperse. When was this waterfall, white as plain silk, hung upon the sheer cliff? A white rainbow a thousand feet long spans the layered clouds. Cinnabar Mountain has always been where immortals dwell, and it seems the Weak Water has flowed here, making the realm of the immortals seem not far away.

Another poem, by the monk Lei Yai Yuanqiu:

My eyes are filled with flying snow-like foam under the clear sun, and a white rainbow appears over Cinnabar Mountain. The work of Heaven and Earth seems inexhaustible, and the mountain's form turns ceaselessly like the axis of the earth. Ripples stir, reflecting a deep, cold jade color; droplets scatter on the morning wind. If people in the world ask where the waterfall falls, it seems to lead straight to the Dragon Palace.

Yuan Dynasty

Inscribed on Cinnabar Mountain and presented to the Alchemist Shitian, composed by Huang Jinqing Jin:

The Outer Historian of Shitian (a title for a Daoist) dwells on Cinnabar Mountain; such landscape is truly worthy of such a person. Elegant chanting like that of Pi Rixiu has long been rare, and now it seems I see once more the refined bearing of Xie Yichen. The flying waterfall before his gate surges like snow all year round, and the secluded flowers at the cave mouth seem to hold spring there a while longer. When I, grown old, return from the capital to visit the recluse, I long to hold my zither and keep close company with him day after day.

Inscribed on the Waterfall, by Liu Dexuan Renben

The True Immortal of Baishui (White Water) came riding a white crane, though no one knows in which year, on this mountain, the immortal shed the mortal body and ascended on feathered wings. The waterfall becomes a thousand-foot belt of white jade, tumbling from midair as though the Milky Way were pouring down. At dawn, the crane's dream ends, yet the bright moon seems to linger within the curtains; at night, the jiaoren (merfolk of legend, dwellers beneath the water) seem to draw a crystal palace up out of the depths. Travelers to Mount Tiantai who behold this scene find that poetic inspiration cannot fully express itself, and the wish arises to retire to the Jade Terrace and dwell among the immortals.

Again

The waterfall flies down from the edge of the sky to the Jade Terrace (the lofty platform where immortals dwell), hanging high like a bolt of white silk, astonishing to behold. Not even the Weaver Maid's woven cloth could be drawn back in at such a length; Chang'e, it seems, cut the water with skillful hands into this marvelous sight. The light of the falls shines on the twin towers (the watchtowers flanking a palace gate), as if the River of Stars itself were flowing; the roar carries wind and rain, rolling out from among the mountains. Having gazed before the shrines and cave-dwellings and still not had enough, I set out once more for Mount Tiantai in the company of the bright moon.

Seeing Off Mao Shitian to Reside at the Palace of Baishui, by Zhang Boyu

You gird your sword and take up residence on Cinnabar Mountain, standing in the wind, your sleeves fluttering like feathers. The empty altar leaves behind its stillness, while the flying falls go on murmuring. Offerings are meager and hosting guests is difficult; yet though the mountain is deep and remote, its gate is never shut against visitors. Atop the lofty peak of Mount Dalan, perhaps one day you will meet Liu and Fan (the two immortals).

Inscribed on the Palace of Baishui

Two immortals drove their carriage up Mount Qingyu, and their deeds have been handed down through the ages, never yet buried in oblivion. The master of the Palace of Baishui transmits the art of Jia and Yi (a branch of Daoist numerology); I remain beneath the green lamp, keeping the Gengshen vigil (a Daoist night-watch practice). At the misty foot of the mountain the waterfall descends, so that one often suspects rain is falling; at the mouth of the cave flowers bloom, bringing a springtime all their own. Looking back at the human world, it is only dust once more; better to put on straw sandals and keep company with the Great Dao.

Again, by Zhao Junzhang

I once returned from gathering herbs with a woodcutter, and from afar saw white clouds piled upon the cinnabar cliffs. Through ten thousand kalpas, the immortals' bearing endures; the spring waters of the thirty-six streams also come rushing down.

Again, by Zhao Junzhang

I once returned from gathering herbs with a woodcutter, and from afar saw white clouds piled upon the cinnabar cliffs. Through ten thousand kalpas, the immortals' bearing endures; the spring waters of the thirty-six streams also come rushing down. The Jade Palace (a Daoist temple) welcomes all to talk and laugh at ease; leaning on a splendid staff, with robes and shoes soaked through, I climb to the heights. The cave door is deeply shut and no one knows of it; I imagine it must have been opened only after Liu and Fan departed.

Again, by Gao Zecheng Ming

In the Siming Mountains the spring rain has just passed, and I come to the foot of the Santai Peaks to seek the dwelling of the immortals.

The clouds part, and golden palaces seem to rise among the emerald peaks; the wind falls still, and the Milky Way hangs down before the Palace of Jade Emptiness (a Daoist celestial realm).

The deep grotto gives off light in the night, and the elixir turns into immortal cranes; the clear stream flows quietly by day, and an otter pokes up its head to watch the fish.

Please ask for me whether there is any word from Liu and Fan (legendary immortals): if the Azure Bird (a legendary spirit bird said to come from the west) flies in from the west, it can carry a letter for me. According to immortal lore, the two immortals Liu and Fan once played a trick on two men surnamed Wei and Liu: the one surnamed Wei spat and the spittle became a fish, and the one surnamed Liu spat and the spittle became an otter, which is why the poem says so.

Another poem:

The splendors of Cinnabar Mountain are the most marvelous under heaven; amid its layered streams and folded peaks, travelers are few.

The thousand-year-old shrine rises nearly to the clouds, and a hundred-foot waterfall shimmers in the setting sun.

A jade youth (an immortal's attendant) plays the sheng, his figure seeming to be reflected within the gate; an immortal maiden pays homage to the true immortals, with cloud-mist draped like a garment around her.

I came here and stayed two nights, my heart stirred by countless feelings. The dusty world is troubled without end; when will my spirit (Shen) find its rest?

Again, a poem by the monk Baiyun Ziyue:

I hear that Shitian (a personal name) loves to seek out wondrous scenes, and often lingers beneath the Qinghui Pavilion, forgetting to return.

Could it be that no jade-girdled immortals have come to the summit of Cinnabar Mountain? Auspicious clouds so often wrap around the green peaks. The dusty world is troubled without end; when will my spirit (Shen) find its rest?

Again, a poem by the monk Baiyun Ziyue:

I hear that Shitian loves to seek out wondrous scenes, and often lingers beneath the Qinghui Pavilion, forgetting to return.

Could it be that no jade-girdled immortals have come to the summit of Cinnabar Mountain? Auspicious clouds so often wrap around the green peaks.

After the spring rain, the jade peach blossoms give off a drifting fragrance; when the autumn wind blows, the jade trees (a legendary immortal tree) remain green and graceful.

The year before last, I passed by the dwelling of the Immortal Elder and saw a white waterfall plunging down west of the rocks.

Sent to Song Wuyi and Yuanxi, Scribe Mao of the White Water Temple (Mao Waishi, a literate Daoist official in a Daoist temple):

In all my life I had never reached the foot of Cinnabar Mountain; I had only heard the fame of White Water in my hometown.

The road enters the Grotto-Heaven (dongtian, a Daoist realm of immortals) in barely a hundred li; to wander in person through such a realm seems the fruit of bonds forged over several lifetimes.

Among the flowers, the sound of the sheng and the immortal cranes entwine with the spring clouds; the waterside pavilion is bright and clear in the morning light.

Please tell Scribe Mao of Shitian: when the weather turns warm, let us agree to go together and dig up diao huangjing (a kind of Polygonatum, a medicinal herb).

Inscribed on the Waterfall, by Sun Daoxin, Scholar Zhi:

The Jade Dragon (a metaphor for the waterfall), exhausted after battle, hangs upside down on Cinnabar Mountain, as though it could never fly again.

The waterfall surges like thunder, its vast force stirring a heart full of bold spirit; the spray bursts forth and scatters through midair like the Milky Way.

The silver stream stretches on and on, as if without end; its cold light shines quietly, and the mountain moon seems lonely and pure.

The cliffs on both banks look as if cleaved down the middle, and the earth itself seems to turn; the ten-thousand-fathom torrent plunges straight down, yet in the abyss not a single fish can be seen.

In the sixth month the flying waters are like snow, so that one feels no summer heat; the spirit (Shen) is refreshed, and one cannot help but admire the immortals.

Liu and Fan once ascended together and became immortals; now ancient trees tower to the sky, and the scenery remains as it was then.

The author of the middle poems, though little known by name, was also a true person (zhenren) of simple, unadorned naturalness.

The cave dwelling stands open, still holding its deep and secluded scenery. A chasm of ten thousand fathoms plunges straight down, yet no fish can be seen. Snow still flies in the sixth month, and the summer heat cannot enter, leaving my heart and spirit refreshed and longing for the life of immortals gathered together.

Liu Gang and Lady Fan once ascended together to immortality. The ancient trees in these mountains still tower to the sky, just as they did then. Some parts of the cave are rarely heard of, yet true ones (zhenren) who have returned to simplicity dwell there. The cave stands open, and the warmth of the elixir qi (Qi) remains. The cranes return and speak together of springtime as lovely as the Peach Blossom Spring.

Please sing me a tune of "Summoning the Recluse." At dusk I will rest in the mountains, pillowed on the stream. Tomorrow morning, share with me a ladle of clear spring water, and let it wash away the ten thousand measures of worldly dust. "Elixir qi" refers to the warm breath of alchemy or of the realm of immortals; "pillowed on the stream" is a phrase for sleeping beside a flowing brook.

Again, Zhu Jingchun's Jiong:

By nature I have a fondness for mountains and waters and a longing for the realm of immortals, and I often lean on my staff to gaze at the peaks. Once the rock cavern was opened, it was as though a red phoenix had flown away; the waterfall leaps from on high like a jade dragon rushing forth. When the wind blows, the spray suddenly scatters like snow flying in midair; even without rain, the sound of the water echoes long through a thousand hills and ten thousand valleys, like thunder.

I alone envy Mao, the Outer Scribe of the mountains, who lives in seclusion here and has truly obtained a little Penglai. "Outer Scribe" is a title for a recluse or Daoist; "Penglai" is the legendary immortal mountain in the sea.

Again, Chen Bangxie's Yong:

Where does the water come from? It flows out from among piles of white clouds. The current sprays downward, falling in a thousand feet of flying snow, its roar echoing through ten thousand valleys like thunder. The Daoist is pure and transparent, as though not a trace of worldly dust remained even in his bones; the guests seated here likewise feel refreshed and free of dust. Everyone exchanges a smile and goes down the mountain, holding a zither and walking home under the moonlight.

Inscribed at the White Water Palace:

The great treasure of secret arts kept within the pillow must surely be worth transmitting. Living near Cinnabar Mountain, one seems to dwell in the ninth heaven of the immortal realm. Its fame spreads far, and people often seek it out beyond the clouds and waters; its name ought also to be carved among the mountain cliffs. After the rain clears, the sound of the waterfall is especially distinct at night; the alchemical furnace is warm, and the alchemist seems to forget the passing of years. "Great treasure" refers to precious secret arts or texts; "alchemical furnace" is the vessel used for refining elixirs.

Sometimes I drain a pot of wine and sing a song, letting others call me a "Terrestrial Immortal," one who walks the human world like an immortal.

Pavilion of Clear Radiance:

I rinse my brush and gather my thoughts beside an ice-clear cup, and my ideas are uncommonly fine; the pavilion is filled with poetry everywhere, free of worldly disturbance. Before my eyes the green mountains are fresh and emerald, and the living waters at their source reflect the white clouds. The notes of the iron flute seem to startle the toad in the cold moon; when the jade sheng is played, it seems to call down cranes in the depth of night. When the mood rises, I lean on the railing and gaze upon my long sword, and at times a divine light shoots straight toward the Dipper constellation. "Iron flute" and "jade sheng" are common musical images in Daoist poetry of the immortal realm; "Dipper patterns" refers to the stellar configurations around the Big Dipper.

Inscribed for Gao Boyuan Yi of Cinnabar Mountain:

Cinnabar Mountain and the Red River are where the divine immortals dwell. In cloth-soled shoes, treading in green sandals, one may wander and delight here to one's heart's content.

A waterfall a hundred feet high pours down like snow falling from the Milky Way, and a single crane's cry echoes through the autumn grotto-heaven (Dongtian, in Daoist terms the cavern dwellings and blessed lands of the immortals).

On the cloud altar the green lattice fruits (qinglingzi, the fruit-bearing trees of the Daoist realm of immortals) have ripened, and all around is stillness. The jade trees of legend (qishu) are in bloom, and the stone chamber seems deep and quiet.

Between the streams and mountains lie countless splendid sights that make one linger. When will I be able to choose a spot in these hills, build a house, and live in seclusion?

Again: Chen Lüchang, courtesy name Kelü.

Mount Siming is spacious and open, and its stone windows stand suddenly wide. Within is a white jade terrace where immortals dwell.

A stream flows from a great height, as if it came from the heavens. The peaks of Santai (a mountain name) rise and encircle the cavern dwelling, facing it directly.

The ancient trees are gnarled and vigorous, their branches coiled like dragons. When, I wonder, will I be able to choose a spot in these hills, build a house, and live in seclusion?

Again: Chen Lüchang, courtesy name Kelü.

Mount Siming is spacious and open, and its stone windows stand suddenly wide. Within is a white jade terrace where immortals dwell.

A stream flows from a great height, as if it came from the heavens. The peaks of Santai rise and encircle the cavern dwelling, facing it directly.

The aged trunks coil like dragons, so that one suspects they were transformed from dragons. The dense bamboo groves cast cool shade, as if waiting for the phoenix to return.

I often visit Yinjiang in search of famous sites and ancient relics, yet here I have found Penglai (the legendary island mountain of the immortals in the sea).

Again:

Clad in iron armor and riding a horse over the moss, I suddenly knocked at the immortals' gate, and the stone cave opened.

In autumn, the sound of the Heavenly River seems to hang upon the white waterfall. In spring, purple clouds and fair scenery descend upon the Elixir Terrace (Dantai, a Daoist place for alchemy or ritual offerings).

The immortal Liu long ago departed riding a luan bird, while Han Ling still arrives today on a crane.

Raising a cup in meeting, we enjoyed refined pleasure to the full. When the new poem was finished, I still lingered and could not leave.

Again: Wang Jingzhong.

The scenery of Mount Siming enters through windows on all four sides, so lovely it seems one could reach out and gather it in. At the mountain's foot, the stone chambers stand tall and bright.

The crows left behind in the woods once turned into tigers, and the musk deer and monkeys in the cave all look like people.

The torrent plunges down for thousands of feet. The poet has lived a lofty life, untouched by the dust of the world, for more than forty years now.

A numinous radiance shines on the alchemy chamber (Danshi, a quiet room for refining elixirs or for cultivation) night after night, and I imagine immortals often come and go.

Again: Yuan Dejiyamoding.

The famous mountains of Eastern Yue are known throughout the world, and the immortal realm of Mount Sichuang is especially extraordinary.

The blue sky seems to send down the waters of the Milky Way, and in broad daylight the clouds drift leisurely over the emerald ridges.

Beyond the mortal world comes a song like the phoenix's, as a recluse enters the forest. In the woods, tigers and crows keep watch over the Primal Sovereign (Yuanjun, a revered Daoist deity).

I know you never tire of climbing and wandering far in your hiking shoes. May you often come and seek me here, so that together we may withdraw from the turmoil of the dusty world.

Again: Lin Xiyuan.

Long ago I heard that the Immortal Elder Liu once served as magistrate of Shangyu County. Year after year the Elder nourished the spirit (Shen) and refined immortal elixirs, and often gathered divine herbs in person.

One day, riding a soaring luan bird, the Elder rose past towering trees and entered the vast expanse of cloud and mist. Looking down on the human world, the Elder saw how many times the blue sea had turned to mulberry fields and back again.

Alas, you have not yet shed the mortal frame and changed your bones, so how could you possess the bearing of an immortal? The Elder's lofty traces remain in the world, inspiring deep reverence and praised from generation to generation.

Another poem, by Wang Chenliang (Wenjing):

Mount Dan has been the dwelling of immortals since ancient times, and its marvels are utterly unlike those of the common world.

A hanging spring a hundred feet high winds and plunges like a swimming dragon, and crows of a thousand years ago turned into tigers. Such tales lend the mountain scenery the hue of a fairy realm.

The pavilions still recall immortals playing flutes and singing, while spirit-mushrooms (lingzhi) and immortal trees provide year-round food for those practicing bigu. Bigu is a Daoist practice of reducing or abstaining from grain.

I long to drive a plain brushwood cart to visit the hermit-sage who lives in seclusion, though I do not know whether someone still covered in worldly dust would be received.

Another poem, by Yang Yuanqing (Huan):

The immortal rode a jade dragon into the sky, and on the mountain the traces of that ascent remain.

Passing through the mists, I picked up a blue lattice-frame; to view the waterfall, I sought out the White Water Palace. In days when war had not yet ended, I suddenly heard bells and drums, and so came to admire the serene and profound ways of the Daoist tradition.

To cast off the world and cultivate immortality is, I think, not so difficult; I once knew an old man who gathered herbs among the clouds.

Another poem, by Ma Yizhi (Naixian):

After living long in the city, I often recall the fame of the Grotto-Heavens (Dongtian). In spring I climb the mountain, leaning on my staff in light shoes, my steps nimble.

When the mountain rain has stopped, the waterfall at the cliff's edge looks clear and bright; when the blossoms on the rocks have fallen, the stone windows grow luminous. A white-haired elder in a yellow cap has a simple, ancient spirit, and the mountain streams and idle clouds seem tranquil and at ease.

So I wish to seek out Magistrate Liu, and to bring my wife and children along to study the Dao of long life.

Another poem:

A narrow path leads far off to the White Water Palace, and the ranges stand like clusters of blue lotus. The flying cascade hangs down like a thousand feet of white silk; climbing higher, one can still ascend three or four more peaks.

Now and then I hear stream otters chasing fish, yet before my eyes there is only the legend of immortals arriving on cranes. I plan to wander in the mountains for ten days, walking from the south of the clouds to the north, seeking out the mountain's marvelous sights.

Some say an otter chases fish along the stream, but only an immortal rides a crane across the sky.

Watch me wander the mountains for ten days, covering all of Yunnan, south and north of the clouds, seeking traces of the immortals.

Another

After the True Man of the White Waters departed, he never returned; the purple-blue palaces stand open, leaning against the clouds.

A waterfall flies down from the cliff like a silver ribbon; the mountains line up in three peaks, heaped in emerald green.

Herb-gathering immortal boys pass by with their cranes, and deer carrying flowers in their mouths draw close to people.

Only then do we know that such a wondrous realm does not belong to the mortal world. Let us sit together on the moss-covered rocks, chanting poems and admiring the view.

Inscribed on the Plum Beside the Yang, Mount Dan

Mount Siming has two hundred and eighty green, lofty peaks; the sky opens wide on all four sides, and the sun and moon rise and set within them. This is the ninth of the thirty-six cave-heavens (dongtian); the Cinnabar Mountain and Red Waters form a separate realm of the immortals, beyond what ordinary people can inquire into.

I dreamed of the immortal He, the wild guest, and so went to visit Yunqiaozi, climbing alone to the very summit of Mount Dalan. Looking down, I saw vast, surging waves spread without limit, and the sun as large as a cartwheel; rainbow-like lights and shadows and mirages crossed and shifted, boundless and hazy, reaching to the edge of the sky. Here lies another realm of Cinnabar Mountain and Red Waters, beyond what ordinary people can inquire into. I dreamed of the immortal He, the wild guest, and so went to visit Yunqiaozi, climbing alone to the very summit of Mount Dalan. Looking down, I saw vast, surging waves spread without limit, and the sun as large as a cartwheel; rainbow-like lights and shadows and mirages crossed and shifted, boundless and hazy, reaching to the edge of the sky.

A peach-blossom-fair immortal maiden offered me phoenix marrow and dragon liver to eat, and I grew feathered wings. On the road I met Master Mao, who spoke smilingly of past and present. The crow of red jade fell to the human world and turned into stone; I have heard of this too. "Blades loathe the tiger tide flying; the Great Being's cave-heaven waters; the gate's wind breaks the ancestor's flight; the bridge stone holds the crow of red jade" — the personal names, place names, and allusions in these lines are hard to decipher. Why pursue them to the end? Searching downward to the depths of the earth and upward to the edge of heaven, riding an iron boat straight across. "Weak feathers, water, fire, sword," wishing to cut down a branch of the Fusang tree — these lines, too, use allusions that cannot be pinned down. Master Mao and the later Immortal Mao have passed a thousand years, once drunk on the wine of Mount Lu. Sobering, they rode a tiger away and entered Mount Zhong, laughing and calling the colorful luan bird down; with a wave of the hand, the jade seeds in the stone fields were as large as dou measures.

The Eminent Scholar of the Stone Field lives on Mount Dan and carries on their ancestors' bearing very well. Visitors often praise them, which makes one trust all the more that their reputation is no empty one. Having received a letter from them, I answered with a poem in place of a reply. I was eighty-five years old at the time. Xue Chaoyang, Tingfeng. Final

The guest often says the grotto-heaven (Dongtian, the dwelling place of immortals in Daoist belief) is beautiful, and I too have long admired its landscapes, feeling that I can well carry on the interests of my forebears. People often praise this place, which makes me all the more certain it deserves its reputation. I am grateful for the letter you sent, with a poem in place of a note. I am now eighty-five years old. Xue Chaoyang, Tingfeng.

The guest often says the grotto-heaven is beautiful, and I too have long yearned for its quiet, secluded mountains and waters.

Beside the Ascending Immortal Tree, near the ancient stone forest, the Medicine-Washing Stream runs deep, and in wind and rain it grows more profound still.

The Perfected One of the Three Blossoms (a Daoist Perfected, or zhenren) once lived here, and now among his descendants of several generations, some are known throughout the world for their talent.

If you ask whether this old man's hair has yet to turn white, I can still come to visit and write out refined sentiments with you.

The Great Perfected Uncle sent a poem to Shitian, and Shitian respectfully composed a poem in reply; thus I write to send greetings to Yishan Siji.

When we parted in those years, I savored the courtyard that seemed a realm of immortals; your parting words have never been forgotten, and my dreams are especially clear.

I still remember how we once lived together at Four Windows for a long time, borrowing a tiger to ride in search of the Way of long life.

The Cinnabar Forest still esteems the worthies of earlier dynasties, and the White Waters still carry the renown of high antiquity.

If one climbs to the summit of Santai Peak and gazes into the distance, it seems the Old Man Star is close at hand, shining upon your clear and lofty bearing.

I still remember how we once lived together at Four Windows for a long time, borrowing a tiger to ride in search of the Way of long life.

The Cinnabar Forest still esteems the worthies of earlier dynasties, and the White Waters still carry the renown of high antiquity.

If one climbs to the summit of Santai Peak and gazes into the distance, it seems the Old Man Star is close at hand, shining upon your sentiments.

Inscribed as a gift to Han Yanxin of Danshan.

The spring breeze has twice reached Penglai and Yingzhou (the legendary immortal mountains of Penglai and Yingzhou), and ten thousand measures of sorrow have been washed away with it.

On rainy days I lie on my couch listening to the waterfall roar at the cliff's edge; on clear days I sit by the window watching white clouds rise.

The steps reflect plants and trees that have grown through the years, and the cinnabar has been refined through nine cycles of transformation.

How I wish I could build a thatched hut beside Fanxie and ask you for a plot of stony field to till.

Inscribed again for Wang Shu, Yulin.

Beneath Santai Peak is the dwelling place of immortals; the spring breeze of Fanxie blows, and creeping fig and dodder vines fill the place.

Layer upon layer of mountains join with the rock walls, and a curtain of flying waterfall pours down like the Silver River.

Sky and light reflect each other above and below, the clouds gather and scatter in changing shapes; the mountain colors are hazy, and the rain and mist hang thick.

Composing poems in reply to the guest, I enjoy to the full the elegant pleasure of the excursion; on returning, my girdle ornaments clink together with a clear sound.

Inscribed again for Liu Tanzhi, Lü.

Chishui Mountain stands tall and steep, and the immortals' dwelling is faintly visible, far and subtle. The two lofty men, Liu and Fan, rose above the world and roamed to the eight corners of the earth.

Once they departed, their traces vanished into obscurity, and over a thousand years only miraculous relics have remained. In the mountains there are recluses who silently hold the methods of cultivation, refining their essence (Jing), vital energy (Qi), and their spirit-souls.

In the deep woods I gather green lattice fruits (qingling guo); beside the cold spring I boil white stones. Standing in this serene and bracing realm, I feel I have wandered far from the dusty world.

Coming here and seeing this scene, I gave my heart to it at once, as though I had known it long ago. Someone brews wine from pine blossoms and offers it earnestly to keep the guest from leaving; and there are cloud-dwelling figures, like immortals, who cultivate their Qi (vital energy) and their spirit-souls in the quiet depths.

In the deep woods I gather green lattice fruits; beside the cold spring I boil white stones. Standing in this serene and bracing realm, I feel I have wandered far from the dusty world.

Coming here and seeing this scene, I gave my heart to it at once, as though I had known it long ago. Someone brews wine from pine blossoms and offers it sincerely to keep the guest from leaving.

There is also a poem by Chen Jun:

At the mouth of the murmuring cave I watch the flying waterfall, while fine threads of rain drift over the hedge. The True Man of the White Water (a title for a Daoist immortal) is hospitable, and the Scholar of the Green Mountain loves to inscribe verses. The Ju Marquis (a legendary immortal bird) cries out at night in the tree of three blossoms, and wild deer often bring back five-colored numinous mushrooms in their mouths. May I ask: since Liu Gen and Lady Fan (legendary immortals) departed, who will still come here to share my heart and trade verses with me?

There is also a poem by Xie Yuangong Su:

Clouds and mist coil to the north and south of the mountain, and the palaces of the immortals look down upon its slopes. On clear days the mountain peaks cast their reflections, tinting half the sky with green; the waterfall, like flying snow, sends up spray, and even in the sixth month one feels a chill. The luan bird has flown away, and one searches in vain for its perch; the fierce tiger has come, yet still guards the altar of the immortals. The peach trees before the cave stay green each spring; when I return, I will come again to ask about the refining of the Great Elixir (Golden Elixir).

There is also a poem by Qiwen Angji:

The immortals of old have left Mount Dalan, and of the terraces and halls only traces on the rock walls remain. The cliffside waterfall flies through all four seasons, pouring down like white snow; the mist over the stream shields the Mysterious Pass (Xuanguan, the gateway of cultivation, also meaning a deep and secluded pass) all day long. When the dew turns cold, I gather the green lattice fruit; when wind rises among the immortal trees, I seem to see a tiger returning. Last night, just before the cave, rain had fallen; my host kept me as a guest, and together we listened to the murmuring of the stream.

There is also a poem by Han Zhijing Ji:

I long to seek the traces of elixirs in the Red Waters, for this is truly a realm of jade hairpins and jade bamboo shoots, a land of immortals. The peaks are like emerald screens, standing in rows and reflecting upon the gates; the stream is like a ribbon, winding along the valley without end. Riding the clouds and Qi, one seems able to travel to and from the heavens even in the heat of summer; admiring the moon and chanting in the wind, one envies the refined elegance of the late Tang poets. Someone treads the Steps of Yu (Yubu, a ritual pace in Daoist ceremonies) upon the stone altar, and from the air songs drift down from time to time, clear and ringing, like jade pendants striking one another.

Where can one best enjoy the scenery between White Water and Cinnabar Mountain? Climb to the Qinghui Pavilion, and the whole panorama of the mountains opens before you.

In the midair haze, layer upon layer of green peaks seem to stand right before your eyes; a waterfall tens of thousands of feet high pours down, and even in the fifth month it leaves one feeling a chill.

Immortals come from the cave mouth playing their flutes; mountain folk emerge from the clouds after gathering herbs.

I, too, am like a crane dwelling on Nan Peak, coming and going, keeping company with the people of the mountains, long unwilling to leave.

Zhao Dechun (courtesy name Yisheng) also composed:

Thirty-six majestic peaks rise to the heights, as though joining the bright heavens. In the mountain are caverns where immortals dwell, and clouds like cinnabar-tinted mist cover the summits. White deer carry magical herbs in their mouths, and black gibbons drink from spirit springs. The mountain forests are deep and secluded, the days ordinarily tranquil; petals fall, and spring slips quietly away. Refined gentlemen, unbound by worldly constraints, wander and linger in the mountains from morning to night. They clear stone fields and plant fine grain, which nourishes body and mind and prolongs life.

The Stone Field Mountain Lodge of Master Mao (the title "Venerable Master," zunshi, is an honorific), inscribed by Zhang Zhongju.

At first, a hundred mu of barren land was opened amid rugged rocks, and at dusk a mountain lodge was built at the foot of Siming Mountain.

The jade seeds planted gleam white in pairs; the cloud-root stones that were cut out lie square, piece by piece.

In the cave there are immortals who consume only jade marrow; on the mountain path no more visitors come looking for the lost sheep.

I know that each day, after reciting the Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture, a Daoist classic), you simply cup flying spring water in your hands to rinse your mouth, and the fragrant, clear water penetrates the teeth.

Chen Zishan (courtesy name Zuren) also composed this.

Immortals dwell in the Siming Mountains. Far from the dusty world, they have settled on lofty peaks. They soar through the air, passing over scenes in which heaven and earth are mirrored; even the traces they leave behind seem out of the ordinary. The bearing of these immortals has been handed down, its blessings reaching the region of the Sanhua Mountains, where some have taken up the tradition and revived it.

Someone has built a thatched hut beneath the peaks. The dwelling is so high and remote that it seems one could ride a wild goose straight into the clouds. In the mountains the langgan (a legendary immortal tree) stays green in every season, and spirit springs flow past both sides of the dwelling. In the morning this person goes out to pay respects to the Royal Father (the name of an immortal mountain or immortal); in the evening, summons the Azure Youths (boy attendants who serve the immortals).

Here there are only two qing of land, and the year's harvest is sustained by hard labor. The fields do not join into a single stretch in any direction, north, south, east or west, but lie scattered among rugged rocks. Since antiquity, the places where immortals and sages have lived have followed ways of eating and nurturing life different from those of ordinary people. Baiying (a herb of immortality that may be eaten) is harder than fine jade, and when boiled it is offered as the morning sacrificial meal.

It is not that nobody plows or hoes here; rather, the grain is so scant that not even a bamboo basket of rice or a gourd of porridge can be filled. Bandits who look upon it have no wish to linger, and after a disaster from heaven nothing at all remains. In the past people contended for empty fame and empty profit, and in the end could blame only themselves; and when the dry rice is not enough, one can only attribute it to one's own labor and circumstances. Who would have thought that one could live without eating grain? The Immortal Blossom of the east long ago revealed the first signs of it.

The Perfected of Eastern Florescence (a Daoist immortal) had a method of eating stones. Transcendent and carefree, he delighted in the profound, the mysterious and the still. When he swallowed, it seemed that radiant qi (vital energy) circulated in his throat. His hair was black, his eyes bright, and his frame tall, just like Chisongzi (a legendary immortal of ancient times).

Visiting the White Water Palace, with Birthday Wishes for Hua Boren

A place like the White Water Immortal Palace is hard to come upon. In ten years I have come twice to seek out my old traces.

The cold, clear stream reflects the light like a hanging ribbon of jade-colored silk; the mountains on a sunny day stand steep and graceful, like golden lotus blossoms.

There are no fish by the stream, only layer upon layer of stones; the herb-gathering path leads into the mountains, where clouds drift and swirl.

Tomorrow I will bring my nine-jointed staff (the walking stick Daoists often use to climb mountains) and climb once more to the Santai Peak.

Another Poem: Hu Shigong Yi

Cutting through the mountain rock, one opens a jade field (a legendary field suited to growing immortal herbs) for planting divine plants, and opens the mountain to gather medicinal herbs. The herb-gathering path leads into the mountains, where clouds drift and swirl.

Tomorrow I will bring my nine-jointed staff and climb once more to the Santai Peak.

Chisel open the mountain rock and plant fields of immortal jade; split the mountainside and build an alchemical chamber for quiet cultivation. Dwelling high in the mountains, close to the wilds, I regard worldly glory as chaff. It is not that there is no sesame rice (the plain fare commonly eaten by Daoist practitioners), and there is also the method of bigu (abstaining from grain through cultivation). Watching the crowds from afar endure hunger and hardship, I cannot help feeling sorrow.

Shouldering a hoe, I leave Mount Siming and see the Red River surging along. The numinous plants have bloomed three times, and the jade gems stand in pairs. A single tiny grain of rice seems to hold a vast world, and a pearl the size of a millet seed hangs high in the sky. In a haze I grow drunk in a dream, and on waking I realize it was only the Yellow Millet Dream (a metaphor for wealth and honor as a fleeting dream). I soar up among the stars of the Northern Dipper and drink the golden liquid of immortality. One draught carries me beyond ten thousand kalpas, and I walk on rainbows to wander beside the Celestial Emperor. Returning, I admire the reflected scenery, as though self and world were both forgotten.

A pine breeze passes through the empty hut; the heart grows clear, nourishing the pure Yang Qi. Moonlight through the vines hangs over the sheer cliff, and a waterfall pours down like silver beside the stone bed. The world within the gourd (a Daoist term for the dwelling of immortals or a separate heaven and earth) appears and fades, and like the immortal of the river I soar at ease. Mist and cloud stir the swift spring currents; sitting quietly in repose, I seem to need no grain stored for a thousand days. My face stays youthful as a child's amid the rosy clouds, my hair is jet black, gathering a mysterious radiance.

In the Palace of Budding Pearls (a legendary immortal palace) I tread the Void Step, and the lingering notes ring clear as jade. In silence I look inward, transcending outward form; I close the mouth, ears, and other senses, and burn fragrant incense. The lingzhi fungus grows lush, and the immortal herbs spread their fragrance. I set the Purple River Cart in motion (the Neidan (internal alchemy) term for the circulation of Jing (essence) and Qi within the body), and call out for the Golden Flower Ram to leap up (an immortal creature symbolizing the transformations of alchemy). May I gather the medicine of long life and offer it to a wise and enlightened sovereign.

Another, by Liu Ruyuan (Ruochong)

A Daoist lives in the White Water Cave, and at the cave's mouth lies land that can be cleared and tilled. Farming it takes little toil, for the jade breaks down of its own accord, and with refining its essence can be extracted. A guest gathers firewood at the bottom of the stream, and they cook and eat together; the immortals on the ridge have all completed their cultivation. In the deep of night, with no companion, the moon rises of itself, and sitting quietly I listen to the sound of pipes and the cries of cranes drifting down from the ninth heaven.

Another, by Chen Zexu (Siyu)

Build a hut at the foot of the mountain and you can dwell in peace. There is no need to tire the spirit with running about, nor to wait for the year's end to hold qirang (rites of sacrifice to avert misfortune and invite blessing). Planting jade will yield gems like the jade of Mr. He, and refining elixirs brings Yu's surplus grain (a legendary immortal medicine or alchemical ingredient). I know well that my life keeps company with clouds and waters, yet who can grasp the deep delight of mountain forests, springs, and rocks? I too long to go back and seek my old family home, and in dreams I often wander around Brocade Stream.

Another, by Zhao Xingwu (Silu)

Following half a cliff face, I climb through the clouds to open a path and carve out a screen of emerald green. Among a thousand crags and ten thousand gullies, the mountain hues are deep and tranquil, reaching straight into the clouds and sky. Reining in the horse, I arrive at this place; it needed no help from the men of Qin to open the mountain, nor was it carved out by the divine power of the Shu emperor.

The immortal's bowl gathers the harvest, better than grinding the grain to powder. While the spring earth is rich and moist, plant jade-like treasures, and one may prolong life and add to one's years.

Returning, the tooth-marks of my wooden clogs leave a longing in my heart.

Halfway up the mountain, the green cliff is cut open, and stone steps lead toward the clouds. Calls echo among the peaks, and the mountains on either side tower into the blue sky.

Lay down the riding whip; there is no need for the strength of the men of Qin. Opening the mountain and clearing the road was not the work of the spirits of the Shu emperor either.

The immortal's bowl gathers the harvest, better than grinding the grain to powder. While the spring earth is rich and moist, plant jade-like treasures, and one may prolong life and add to one's years.

Returning, the green moss beneath my clogs is slick with damp. A thatched hut is half hidden among pines and vines, reflecting the verdant mountain colors.

Another inscription, for Xue Yifu:

Beside a few mu of mountain fields stands a courtyard dwelling. I am glad to have a "scratching bowl" here, which I prize above fertile farmland.

Lately, practicing bigu (abstaining from grain, a Daoist cultivation practice of restraining or giving up the five grains), I have kept Lord Huangshi in my heart, and I also till the kin fields and plant white elms.

Jade qi (vital energy) fills the mountains, and the plants and trees flourish because of it. After the clouds and mist drift away from among the pines, the crane's nest looks solitary and pure.

One day I will take off my wooden clogs and follow my teacher in cultivation, seeking the green lingzhi (in Daoist belief, an herb of immortality or a spirit-plant), each one like a pearl.

Xue, the Perfected One of Crane Studio, is someone I have never met but deeply admire. I have already asked someone to carry this poem to them. Zhang Xian, a native of Nanfu.

You left the Celestial Emperor's side and returned two years ago; may you dwell in peace on Cinnabar Hill (a legendary realm of immortals).

To compile scriptures, there is no need for the Verdant Splendor staff; riding a crane, you can ascend the White Jade Tower once more.

Seeking the green lingzhi, each one like a pearl.

Xue, the Perfected One of Crane Studio, is someone I have never met but deeply admire. I have already asked someone to carry this poem to them. Zhang Xian, a native of Nanfu.

You left the Celestial Emperor's side and returned two years ago; may you dwell in peace on Cinnabar Hill.

To compile scriptures, there is no need for the Verdant Splendor staff; riding a crane, you can ascend the White Jade Tower once more.

I envy that you carry on the Dao teachings of the Tang-dynasty Junior Guardian; I am ashamed that I can no longer accomplish anything as the Marquis of Liu did in the Han.

The white water before your gate hangs down three thousand feet, as if transformed into the Yellow River, flowing on without end.

A Visit to the White Water Palace, by Wu Juzheng, courtesy name Duanxue

In my youth I already grew weary of worldly affairs and longed for this secluded, beautiful place. So I journeyed beyond the dusty world, and was fortunate to keep company with a noble recluse of the mountains and forests. Along the stream we crossed the brook by the fish weir (a stone dam built to trap fish), then followed a path as narrow as a bird's track, climbing to a height wreathed in green clouds.

Having seen with my own eyes the dwelling place of immortals, I yearned all the more for a life among the mountains, clouds, and rosy mists. How many peaks encircle us I cannot tell, and the flying waterfall plunges a thousand feet. It seemed that heavenly spirits danced nearby, and the sound of water played before the steps like music of nature itself.

The traces of Pi Rixiu and Lu Guimeng are long past, and the tale of Liu Chen and Ruan Zhao meeting immortals at Mount Tiantai has become a thing of the past. If no one carries on the aspirations of those before, how could one savor such a tranquil and beautiful scene? The poems the ancients left behind are still here; examining them closely along the rock wall, one seems to glimpse the old days.

Collected Poems and Paintings of Danshan, Cavern-Heaven of Siming