《茅山誌》Vol. 28
About this page. The original text of 《茅山誌》 Vol. 28 (Dongzhen 洞真部, 33 volumes) is shown in Classical Chinese as transmitted in the Kanripo (Kyoto University) edition. An English interpretation of the 19 passages on this page accompanies it: select a passage or press “Interpretation” to show it. All texts in English
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Source textInterpretation
The "Ode to Huayang Stone" from the Maoshan Zhi is a set of fifteen five-character quatrains composed by the Southern Dynasties Daoist master Tao Hongjing (also known as Tao the Recluse). Each poem depicts the sacred landscape of Maoshan (the ancestral seat of the Shangqing tradition) and the spiritual insights of cultivation.
The first poem, "Pivotal Domain," describes the mountain as a place of profound mystery, akin to the ancient Hetu and Luoshu diagrams, illuminated by three celestial lodges, with two golden markers (Jintan and Jinsha) signifying its sacred aura.
The second, "Substance and Form," speaks of the Daoist ideal: the true dwelling is not fixed in place, all existence ultimately returns to emptiness, and spiritual construction requires no deliberate carving—the formless Dao (the Way) manifests naturally.
The third, "Shape and Position," outlines Maoshan's layout: its three main peaks symbolize the three Dantian (energy centers in cultivation), its five paths correspond to the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), and the shifting Yin-Yang energies flow with the cycle of day and night.
The fourth, "Markings and Continuity," depicts the mountain's contours: the southern peak rises like a cinnabar cauldron, the northern ridge stretches like the walls of Qin, while jade-sand springs encircle hidden traces of immortal chariots.
The fifth, "Distinctions," records the waterways: the willow-lined Qian River winds like a sash to the left, the Yanggu Stream surges to the right, the soil carries the hues of Beimang (a famed burial ground), and the well-water is clearer than the fabled Fengmen Spring.
The sixth, "Traces and Names," recounts ancient sites: Guo Gan’s ruins linger by the shore, the footprints of Jiang Ba (an immortal of old) have long faded, the Crane Temple holds occasional rites, yet the retreat remains ever solemn.
The seventh, "Categories and Affinities," reflects on local offerings: the dwellings of Wu are no true grotto-heavens, the tombs of Yue cannot conceal real transcendents—shade trees bow in vain, and stone stoves long cold (signifying the purity of practice).
The eighth, "Natural Order," notes rare treasures: orchards lush with apple trees, spice-laden vegetable plots, luminous night-glowing fungi serving as lamps, and field springs cleansing worldly dust.
The ninth, "Gatherings of Wanderers," portrays immortal visits: guests from Turtle Mountain descend from their carriages, Azure Lads dismount, resting at the Hall of Embodied Truth and gathering in the Palace of Untroubled Ease.
The tenth, "Talented Elites," captures celestial music: clear songs summon flying birds, long whistles churn the clouds, a single-stringed zither plays transcendent melodies, yet profound discourse finds few kindred ears.
The eleventh, "Learning and Inheritance," describes cultivation: beneath Thunder Plateau (a Maoshan spur), a thatched hut stands in silent shadow against the cliffs; the highest teachings demand serene detachment—falling blossoms and drifting snow alike reveal the mind.
The twelfth, "Karmic Cycles," discusses cause and effect: the deliverance of spirits follows its own measure, comings and goings hinge on conditions—why display one’s heart? The unseen realm perceives all.
The thirteenth, "Awakening to Accord," praises karmic affinity: wandering the world leads back to the jade blade (a sword symbolizing the Dao), reclusion at Huayang aligns with celestial timing; understanding the transformations of Yin-Yang (the hexagram Chongli) summons the protection of the Northern Dipper (Seven Stars).
The fourteenth, "Signs of Dawn," foretells: the destined hour nears fulfillment, though the final earthly branch (Hai) remains unspent—when peace reigns, sages and perfected will surely descend.
The fifteenth, "Inscribed Sincerity," declares the poet’s vow: words carved on dark-windowed cliffs, devotion written at winding path gates—whether in motion or stillness, may the divine bear witness, never betraying the pledge to the Dao.
(Note: "Two golds" refer to Jintan and Jinsha; "three abodes" correspond to Maoshan’s Great Mao, Middle Mao, and Small Mao peaks; "seven primes" signify the Big Dipper—all key Daoist symbols.)
The poems recorded in Maoshan Zhi (Annals of Maoshan) reveal the profound connection between literati-recluses and Mount Mao (the birthplace of the Shangqing Daoist tradition) during the Six Dynasties period. These works frequently employ imagery of reclusion to express Daoist cultivation sentiments. Let me analyze them sequentially:
In "Mountain Dialogue," Tao Hongjing responds to Emperor Wu of Liang's imperial inquiry with "white clouds crown the mountain peaks," illustrating that the joy of Daoist practice can only be personally experienced, not conveyed through material gifts. This embodies the Daoist principle of "forgetting words upon grasping the meaning" (得意忘言) - true cultivation experiences transcend verbal expression.
"Announcing Departure" explores perspectives on life and death. Human spirituality arises from karmic causes, with karmic forces enduring across lifetimes. Death signifies not annihilation but transformation. Practitioners transcend worldly sorrows and joys, relinquishing mundane trappings like ceremonial robes and swords to achieve feathered ascension. Following immortal traces leads to comprehension of the Dao's ultimate truth.
The poem about failing to meet a recluse depicts Maoshan's landscapes through "Jingmen's hills and valleys" and "storm clouds beyond earthen windows." The poet marvels: Who but genuine recluses could endure the austere mountain life with dewdrops soaking their robes? This reflects Daoism's "austere practice leading to enlightenment" philosophy.
Heng Fakai's "Entering the Mountains" meticulously portrays cultivation scenes: establishing an altar at dawn in cold valleys, sacrificial platforms beneath dense foliage, crimson-scaled fish in crystalline waters. References to "apricot grove subduing beasts" (alluding to Dong Feng's healing legends) and "mushroom fields" (where immortals cultivate lingzhi) employ classic Daoist imagery. The description of stone furnaces turning to silver after elixir completion demonstrates Waidan (external alchemy) processes.
Shen Yue's poetic response to Tao Hongjing acknowledges that while the Three Pure Ones remain invisible, the primordial Qi endures eternally. It expresses hopes that cultivation might reverse spiritual decline and rescue endangered souls. Obtaining the "nine-cycled golden elixir" would render one fearless against cosmic cycles ("six dragons" referencing the Yijing's Qian hexagram lines).
The poem about seeking famous mountains after fulfilling familial duties reflects the scholar-gentry's ideal of "completing worldly obligations before pursuing immortality." Imagery like "dragon charts" (referring to the Hetu and Luoshu) and "jade pendants echoing in caverns" (symbolizing ritual implements' celestial tones) manifests longing for reclusive life.
In the poem about refusing to descend from a tower, terms like "soaring skyward on a wooden foot" (ascending upon enlightenment), "cloud chariots" (immortals' vehicles), and "three numinous herbs" depict celestial abodes' splendor. References to the Queen Mother of the West's bluebird messengers and dragon-riding guests culminate in contrasting the immortal peach (Pantao) with the great toon tree (symbol of longevity), subtly comparing mortal and divine lifespans.
The final two short verses feature "jade ingestion" (a longevity technique consuming mineral powders), "mist swallowing" (Qi absorption practices), and paradisiacal imagery like "Green Hill" (eastern sea paradise) and "Fusang" (cosmic tree). As the "Master of Juqu" (alternative name for Maoshan), Fan Yun's poetry thoroughly embodies Shangqing practices emphasizing visualization and Qi nourishment.
These Tang poems from The Records of Mount Mao depict the immortal mountain scenery and hermit life of Mount Mao (a renowned Daoist mountain in present-day Jurong, Jiangsu). The first passage describes auspicious mists lingering all day over the mountains, with wondrous vapors rising at dusk. Spirit mushrooms grow in deep ravines, while sweet springs gush from cliffs. The recluses who embrace the true Dao wear coarse hemp robes, abiding in serene and profound states. They practice ten secret methods in stone chambers and pay homage to the Nine Heavens' immortals at golden altars, ultimately ascending to the celestial realms astride phoenixes.
Huangfu Ran's Reply to Quan Qi of Mount Mao expresses the poet gazing south at the snow-covered Jiangnan mountains, his melancholy finding no outlet. He laments his days spent trailing mundane officials, envying his friend who can sit quietly reading and repairing his thatched hut on Mount Mao. Content with white clouds as companions, what need has he for next year's fragrant grass? Though life holds ambitions, they remain unfulfilled—even amidst officialdom, one cannot escape worldly ties. He longs only to board a boat come spring, first probing the depths of Huayang Cavern.
Other farewell poems all radiate Mount Mao's immortal aura: Lu Qianfu journeys to visit the mountain's true officials (Daoist transcendents), setting jade mats before stone altars; when Daoist Zhang returns to the mountains, he walks alone near caverns, greeted by cranes, transmitting plain-text scriptures (Daoist texts) to disciples, attaining the Dao through cultivating White Stone Cavern; Official Zheng seeks the Dao in the mountains, his whole family dwelling in seclusion amid white clouds and flowing streams, surrounded by tales of transcendents; Zheng the Second lives reclusively on Mount Mao, spending days with ravines and plants—dogs bark and roosters crow in late spring as he happily tends mulberries and apricots.
Gu Kuang's Mountain Dwelling Scenes portrays immortals dwelling in grotto-heavens (celestial abodes in Daoism), with Master Yang practicing Shangqing methods as the Director of Fate delays his aging. Peach blossom waters converge into streams, willow valley mists drift through windows—an elder cradles his grandson watching saplings, leaning on a staff to discuss farming. The poet warns against worldly disturbances, casting empty fame aside. He mentions how Eastern Jin's Xie An, though illustrious in his time, never drank Mount Mao's numinous true waters. The peach blossoms blooming in Yanzhong gorge heighten the carefree spirit of mountain reclusion.
The poems recorded in the Maoshan Zhi depict the reclusive life and spiritual insights of Daoist practitioners at Mount Mao (the birthplace of the Shangqing lineage of Daoism).
The first poem describes the mountain scenery: peach blossoms bloom where a female Daoist (nüguan) is encountered, while apricot leaves drift onto the immortal altar. An elder has just received Shangqing talismans (fulu, the credentials of Daoist cultivation), and at night, he listens to the celestial hymns (buxuci, ritual music of Daoist purification rites) beneath the cold, clear mountain moon. The new dwelling east of Great Mao Ridge reminds him of his departed child; the valley birds seem to call for the lost one, and as the sun sets, tears dampen the mountain dweller’s robe. The separation between life and death brings melancholy, and gazing into the distance from the heights only deepens sorrow. The poet reflects that since ancient times, cultivators have often strayed from the Middle Way, only occasionally finding truth in the scriptures. Heaven and Earth move ceaselessly—what was once present has already become the past. An early death is not necessarily misfortune, for through the Great Yin (a yin-based cultivation method), the body may be refined and transformed. Seeking immortality is like refining gold with fire—it requires trials. The empty house still holds old letters; the meditation chamber (dongfang, "cavern room") lies unused, its qin silent. The spring’s source leads to Mount Fangzhu (a legendary abode of immortals), crowned with emerald-green trees. In a dreamlike state, faint strains of celestial music seem to drift through the air.
The second poem portrays the reclusive life: tender grasses blanket the water’s edge, while clouds and mist drift in and out of view. The evening glow is radiant, and the deep blue waves murmur ceaselessly. A stone cavern hides nests among the clouds, and the southern ridge stretches far into the bright distance. From now on, sorrow and regret are severed—how could worldly dust ever intrude? True tranquility lies in sudden awakening, and transcendence is but a single thought away.
The two poems titled Longing to Return to Taohua Yan express the desire for reclusion: The poet laments the wasted years of his remaining life, knowing that those who come after may also pass too soon. Like the ancients who sighed over storms and drifting, he wonders when the long night will finally brighten. Having left official life, he no longer harbors worldly ambitions; even dreams of returning home grow rare. Cutting off external ties, he embraces seclusion, content with stillness and free from turmoil. Beautiful scenery turns into layers of shadow, and the mountain cave faces empty waters. If the tides bear messages, he entrusts them to the westward-flying birds.
Inscribed on Daoist Lu’s Chamber depicts a Daoist’s dwelling: The sound of autumn laundry-pounding mingles with falling leaves as the poet visits the temple of Lord Mao (the patriarch of Mount Mao). Outside, two young disciples draw water from the well. The empty altar reflects the daylight, while cinnabar grains swirl in the alchemical cauldron. A horsetail whisk sweeps over frost-touched grass, and golden bells chime beneath clear-hued clouds. Memorials to the heavens have severed ties with the mundane world; watching a chess game, the shadows of paulownia trees slant. Humbly seeking the essentials of immortality, he learns that Solomon’s Seal (huangjing, a medicinal herb used in Daoist longevity practices) can be taken as an elixir.
Remembering the Mountains expresses nostalgia for mountain life: Spring has come, yet he cannot return—his home lies deep within the remotest peaks. Orchid gardens are moistened by the spring, and pine-framed windows reflect the leisurely moon. A small field near the valley’s mouth sustains him with minor worldly tasks. As long as no mundane duties intrude, he shuts his gates tightly to cultivate in solitude.
Seeing Off Daoist Li to Taohua Yan is a farewell poem: In the morning, he makes an appointment with a noble companion to admire red blossoms beneath green trees; in the evening, he waits for the same companion as rain sweeps over the blue pavilion. Where is that noble one now? At midnight, loneliness fills his heart. Just as he recalls the blooming flowers, he startles at the fallen leaves. He rides a deer that drinks from the mountain spring and lies listening to the calls of paired cranes. To what should lofty aspirations cling? How can one rest content in shallow places?
Through depictions of mountain scenery and cultivation life, these poems reveal the transcendent mindset of Daoist practitioners—their detachment from life and death, their pursuit of longevity, and the solitude and joy of enlightenment found in seclusion. Rich in Daoist imagery—cinnabar, Solomon’s Seal, celestial hymns—they embody the distinctive character of Mount Mao as a sacred Daoist site.
These poetic passages from Maoshan Zhi (Records of Maoshan) reveal the profound connection between literati and Maoshan (the ancestral seat of the Shangqing Daoist tradition), using exquisite imagery to depict the transcendent realm of Daoist cultivation.
The first poem describes a friend retiring to Maoshan with his bamboo staff: Life wastes away in fleeting time, yet the path of cultivation endures. I envy you, bamboo staff in hand, returning to your Peach Blossom Spring—birds fly beyond without thought of return, drifting clouds seem lost in homesickness. Fear not the fading of youth, for ingesting the Purple River Chariot (a Daoist elixir) grants longevity. At night, gazing toward immortal abodes, you see birds returning with blossoms at dusk, moonlight shimmering on streams as blue peaks emerge. Before the Jade Maiden Peak stands an ancient tree—none but a true cultivator may pluck its boughs.
Wei Xiaqing’s dedicatory verse mentions: The golden towers where the Jade Emperor dwells are sacred realms; every corner of this numinous mountain invites reverence. Mundane documents stir worldly fears—how could they surpass the truth of cultivation? The newly built Crane Temple stands close, yet the old homeland at Dragon Gate fades into distance. Parting sorrows linger like unbroken threads; only flute songs in mountain caverns bring solace.
A farewell poem for Gu Kuang returning to Maoshan admires: A sage-era official, now exiled, becomes an attendant at the throne of the Void Sovereign (a Daoist deity). Honoring the Dadong Zhenjing (Shangqing’s central scripture), though still a novice, he grasps the true transmission. His writings gleam like phoenix plumage, his brushstrokes fresh as mist and dawn. I envy your journey to Mount Juqu (ancient Maoshan), where white cranes accompany you through the Three Divine Realms.
Other verses include: Banished officials voice wanderings through immortal realms—silver palaces too enchanting to leave, bamboo staves like dragon steeds. First entering Lord Mao’s grotto-heaven, then visiting Ge Hong’s alchemical ponds, riding the wind like Liezi, returning within five days.
Han Yu’s playful reply uses tree-ear fungus as metaphor: These tender blue-red mushrooms stir wonder—summoning wooden trays when cooked. I imagine you deep in Huayang’s caverns, surely having sliced the left ear of the wayward dragon (a whimsical nod to rare elixirs).
Zhang Ji sketches a Daoist’s portrait: The Maoshan priest’s jade tally, adorned with twelve layers of green fur, claims yearly ascents to Mount Luofu (a Daoist peak) to gaze upon the sea.
A poem for Magistrate Yang highlights the cultivator’s spirit: Maoshan’s mists cleanse worldly dust as Daoists join in pursuit of truth. At leisure, he paints cranes’ grace, carves tong-wood for qin zithers. Often chanting beneath pines, reciting new verses in snow. Though guests crowd the army tent, only you grasp the depths of the Dao.
Li Deyu’s verse for Master Sun (a senior Daoist) praises: Where is freedom found? In Huayang’s Eighth Grotto-Heaven. Pine winds carry crystal dew, vines filter the rising sun—painting the grotto’s transcendent beauty.
The poems recorded in Maoshan Zhi depict the scenic beauty of Mount Mao (a sacred Daoist mountain) and commemorate Master Sun (Sun Simiao).
The first poem portrays the tranquil mountain scenery: Amid the stillness of the Daoist altar, a white crane suddenly calls, while the cicadas amid jade-like trees seem to carry their song for miles. The poet longs for the gates of the immortals, seeing only fragrant herbs sprouting purple buds by the stone-lined stream, with clear waters meandering through emerald peaks. Such irises must be unseen by ordinary eyes—only a Daoist cultivator could encounter them in spring.
The second poem describes wandering alone by orchid-covered waters at sunset, leisurely leaning against a pine-framed window to gaze upon the verdant mountains. He imagines the spring moon rising over the peaks, returning from the jade altar with the ethereal sound of buxu (a ritual walking pattern in Daoist liturgy).
The following three poems mourn Master Sun:
The first likens him to a cicada shedding its husk, leaving behind a purified form, ascending like a rainbow to the celestial realm. Fellow Daoists lament his departure as if a sword had transformed into a dragon; old friends feel only the lightness of his abandoned robe. It is as if a yellow crane prepares to soar far away, while a qilin stands solemn and still—only a sage like Bao Jing (a Jin dynasty Daoist) could comprehend the sorrow hidden within the night’s zither music.
The second poem speaks of an empty shrine where only the alchemical furnace remains; his feathered robe has ascended with the clouds. They say a white crane now dwells in his former abode, while his left-behind shoes transformed into wild ducks and flew away. A strange fragrance lingers for days—when will the crane return? Reflecting on the master’s celestial wanderings, he sighs that the village will never see him again.
The third poem tells of a promised golden register (a Daoist ritual object) newly arrived, yet the wind-borne immortal chariot does not linger. The mountains tremble as boulders fall; the Shaowei star (symbolizing virtuous sages) plummets from the sky. Disciples mourn like Xu Jia (a disciple of Laozi), and followers weep like Cai Jing (an Eastern Han Daoist). They speak only of jade slippers left behind, still placed in Fuxiang Pavilion.
Lastly, Master Huang (Huang Daxian) is mentioned as a disciple who attained the Dao from the Peach Blossom Immortal. The poem describes his former dwelling: Later students gather like a bustling market (today’s Maoshan temple priests are all his disciples), yet the master long ago ascended. In the grotto-heavens, there should be no night—the trees at the source know only spring. A young immortal left behind a chessboard (Qu Xiantong, a disciple of Master Huang, was said to have received chess pieces from the Peach Blossom Immortal), while mountain spirits flee the presence of upright deities (when first arriving at Maoshan, a novice accidentally disturbed ritual objects, causing a noise; Master Huang, suspecting mountain spirits, summoned them with talismans to reveal their mischief). Alas, the stone marrow (an elixir of immortality from Biographies of the Immortals) can no longer be obtained to share with seekers of the Dao.
The final poem, Streamside Iris, uses fragrant herbs as metaphors for noble sages: The recluses of Chu cherished orchids and irises, their lingering fragrance still present today. Leaves emerge from shallow waters, blossoms open under warm sun, purple stems vivid against the stream, delicate fragrance pure with dew. If parting, one would gift them—but only briefly plucked for a kindred recluse.
These poems were inscribed in late spring of 843 CE (third year of the Tang Huichang era) by Secretary Lang Pei Zhifang. Rich in Daoist allusions—buxu refers to the ritual Yu Steps, "sword liberation" is a form of shijie (corpse liberation), and "stone marrow" appears in Biographies of the Immortals—they weave natural imagery with immortal lore, embodying Mount Mao’s transcendent aura and reverence for realized adepts.
In his poem written to Li Yanling while traveling from Ziyang Temple to Huayang Cave, Liu Changqing depicts the fairyland scenery of Maoshan. Mist curls between stone forests as the winding mountain path follows the riverbank. Gazing southward, one sees dense auspicious qi (vital energy), with distant peaks appearing and disappearing. Approaching the entrance of Huayang Cave, the trail vanishes into lush vegetation. The Seven Luminaries (sun, moon, and the five planets of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth) seem suspended above the cave palace, while five-colored auspicious clouds embrace the secluded halls. Who could possibly open those silver caskets containing elixirs? The precious golden liquid (immortality elixir in Daoist alchemy) remains enshrined in vain. For millennia this peach-blossom paradise has existed in solitude, hidden like the hermits of Qin who withdrew from the world.
Li Duan's poem describes staying overnight at Huayang Cave. At dusk, the flower-shadowed cave appears profoundly serene, with the immortal altar separated by apricot groves. Spring water in the valley runs cold, while the distant sound of medicine-pounding echoes beneath the midnight window. Mountain-brewed wine is laid upon stone tables, and jade zithers are played among pine trees. The friend dwelling north of Daijia Creek makes one long to visit during snowy nights.
The poem dedicated to a Maoshan Daoist reads: Though this Daoist's name isn't recorded in the "Biographies of Noble Scholars," his demeanor naturally reveals the bearing of a recluse. He connects both with the flower caves of Qin (Shaanxi) and the Maoshan mountains of Shu (Sichuan). Too indifferent to mention sharing the age of the legendary longevity master from Jiang County, he willingly lets villagers call him "Old Man of Fu." All day he sells divination at the marketplace unnoticed, walking in tattered clothes with no one recognizing his true nature.
Qin Xi portrays the mountain life of Venerable Master Li (honorific for Daoist priests): This Tianshi (Celestial Master, honorific for accomplished adepts), though a century old, retains a childlike countenance—impossible to meet without venturing deep into mountains. He often washes medicinal herbs by waterfalls and occasionally ascends the highest peaks to practice buxu (Daoist "Pacing the Void" cultivation). Snow still lingers by fence roots in May, while the ancient pine beside the altar has cast its shade for millennia. The distance between this realm and the human world remains immeasurable—looking back, one sees only layered clouds and ravines.
In Quan Deyu's poem about his former residence in Liugu Valley, he dismounts at sunset in the wilds, quietly listening to the creek murmuring through stones. Where birds sing and petals fall, no human trace remains—just a mountain window silently facing white clouds.
The poem composed while spring-wandering in Maoshan and sent to Du Pingshi reads: When encountering scenery that delights the heart, who would count the miles through spring mountains? Fragrant grasses stretch along the stream, while halfway up the peak, white clouds bask in fair weather. Drinking emerald ice-water from cliffside springs, gathering clear dew at immortal altars—though I miss you in the dusty world, I cannot share this transcendent moment with you.
The poem inscribed for Hermit Cui's thatched hall describes bamboo paths linking simple huts to grotto-heavens, where he leisurely washes by spring streams with horsetail whisk in hand. Mortals only know to hurry by carriage and horse—who understands that stopping one's steps is how true immortals are met?
When the horse's whereabouts are unknown, returning clouds drift by my pillow.
Sent to the recluse Gu Feixiong after failing the imperial examination:
I arrive before your dwelling, gazing up at Great Mao Peak's height.
Clear pools reflect unique birdsong, cold earth sets pines in vivid light.
Men sleep by moonlit jar-shaped windows, wild deer drink from Phoenix Gate Spring.
Truly I envy your hermit's life - another wasted year I bring.
For the recluse Gao Shiyi of Mao Mountain:
The world chases fame and fortune, toiling till their hair turns white.
Those who grasp Wuwei's (non-action) truth forget immortal fame outright.
Quiet birds peer beneath the dining table, rare herbs grow by the fence.
Waking from dreams to mountain drips, I mistake them for palace chimes hence.
Returning to Mao Mountain after success, thanking well-wishers:
Who wouldn't desire such renown? Yet genuine congratulations are rare.
Continuing my ancestral legacy, farewell feasts brim with wanderer's air.
At dusk the wild geese formations break, at dawn the ferry tides run cold.
Once I dwelt below Mao's summit, meditating on roots where pines hold.
Grateful reply to Magistrate Zheng's farewell:
Your parting verse runs deep with feeling, the farewell wine flows strong.
Untying the willow-shaded mooring, I sail back to mountain peaks where I belong.
Thirsty apes appear by rushing streams, bathing birds meet floating logs.
Neither recluse nor official satisfies - like dormant dragons await rain clouds.
Xu Hun's gift to Elder Liang of Mao Mountain:
What visitor dwells in this mist-wrapped house? Green hills stretch the daylight long.
Spring snows cleared for flower planting, nights burning incense reading Daoist scriptures (Fulu).
Gazing at stars, the gourd-world feels vast; floating life rushes like dreams.
Listed now in immortal registers, I seek the Great Return elixir's beams.
For Scholar He:
Eastward toward Mao Mountain gazing, northward leaving Qin's domain.
Mei the immortal's texts discern character - this much is plain.
White-haired elders cook stones below green peaks (alchemy's art),
Though meeting physiognomist Tang Sheng, they keep distant and apart.
Li Shangyin's two poems for Gao Shiyi:
Returning from the hunt singing Qi Li's tune,
Great Mao Peak casts autumn ripples faint.
Mountain study retains guests sweeping red leaves,
Wild paths send monks treading emerald plants quaint.
Long studying ancient weiqi strategies,
Everywhere collecting new herbs rare.
Yellow cranes traverse clouds for miles,
Free from nets, they nest and soar in air.
A flute's note stirs ten thousand leaves,
Reluctantly bearing documents for distant dress.
Cold tides bring early autumn pounding,
Dark moon makes mountain clepsydra slow to progress.
Cliffs echo urging travelers onward,
Distant shores see fishing boats return.
Mid-aged yet ignorant of campaign joys,
Vainly gazing at Shaowei Star's taciturn.
Wang Jian seeing Scholar Gu back to Danyang:
These Tang poems depicting Mount Mao (the ancestral seat of the Shangqing Daoist tradition) reveal literati perspectives on this sacred Daoist mountain and its cultivation practices.
Zhao Gu's poem describes a boat journey to Mount Mao: through the willow-lined river town and misty harbor gates, he prepares to disembark toward the immortal mountain. Knowing his Daoist friend dwells by the waterfall near the calamus pool, before a picturesque thatched cottage. Mountain paths intertwine with streams, horse neighs mingle with autumn rain—though the sacred peak seems within reach, chilling clouds bar his full exploration.
Gao Chan's verse to the Huayang recluse paints a desolate autumn scene with "cloud-wrapped trees sending off fall" and "wind-waves freezing cold." Allusions to the "silver-saddled noble" and "jade-crossbow general" hint at the futility of seeking immortality. The white clouds and misty rain of Mao Mountain's caverns, the frosty cries of golden geese over Jing Stream—all exude an ethereal detachment from worldly dust.
Xiong Jiao's nostalgic poem for his Three Mao companions laments a decade lost in mundane turmoil before revisiting the mountain. He recalls studying the Huangting Jing (a key Daoist scripture) together by the azure-cloud cavern window. Now osmanthus blooms fragrantly, yet kindred spirits are scarce—even the immortal friends at the Apricot Altar mock his lingering attachment to vain reputation.
Liu Yanshi's depiction of Mao Mountain's immortal terraces and herb gardens contrasts worldly clamor with Huayang Cavern's serenity. Golden-script Daoist texts in the temple, jade sprouts in celestial plots, spirit-grass welcoming swallows, peach blossoms laughing at vulgarity—even towers pierce clouds, and dog barks carry transcendent air. The poet yearns to dwell here in perpetual cultivation.
Zhang Xiaobiao's "Wandering the Earth's Lungs" (a sobriquet for Mount Mao) juxtaposes noisy human realms with the mountain's tranquil valleys, invoking four sages (Yang Xi, Guo Pu, Xu Mi, and Xu Hui—key figures in Mao Mountain Daoism). He portrays elixir furnaces untended, white clouds nurturing sacred fungi, moonlit stream shallows, crane cries in autumn skies, and lone smoke wreathing emerald peaks in solitary beauty.
Pi Rixiu's dedication to Mao Mountain's erudite Daoist scholar (referencing Huayang Cavern) envisions a recluse resting in his thatched hut through cold mist. The poem captures half-day purification fasts and sandalwood incense in ascetic practice, with night-returning crane fledglings and spring-falling stalactites radiating celestial aura—this solitary adept communes freely with ancient transcendents across time.
This passage depicts the ascetic lives of several hermits on Mount Mao (a sacred Daoist mountain). Ancient pines stand for millennia amidst the tranquility where birds seem poised to ascend as immortals. Practitioners clad in black monastic robes (wu na qiu) sleep peacefully, undisturbed by worldly affairs. When practicing alchemy, five-colored auspicious vapors rise (an omen during Daoist elixir refinement), and just as the honey wine finishes fermenting, tipsy anticipation for opening the furnace is interrupted by the arrival of white cranes (symbols of celestial blessings in Daoism). Amidst swirling mountain mists and thawing ice cascades, in this transcendent paradise, only the cultivator reclines alone upon the golden altar (a Daoist meditation platform).
Lu Guimeng's poem describes viewing Mount Mao's three peaks (Great Mao, Middle Mao, and Lesser Mao) and the Hall of Seven Perfected (enshrining the Three Mao Sovereigns and four eminent masters) from a distant boat. On cold nights, he rinses his mouth with cloud-sprout tea leaves; after snowfall, he combs stone-hair moss under clear skies. He writes amidst misty radiance, personally testing cinnabar alone. Never claim cave abodes are merely for reclusion—when cultivation reaches perfection, one may ride wind-wheels to audience with the Jade Emperor.
Pi Rixiu's verses portray the daily practice of Master Huayang Runqing, an eminent Daoist: Devotedly serving the Void Sovereign (a Daoist deity), he dwells west of the Celestial Market Altar. He divines qi cycles with tortoise shells and measures immortal prescriptions with medicine spoons (ancient dosing tools). Gathering stone-brain minerals dampens his sleeves, while refining pine resin perfumes the entire courtyard. Though imperial summons for worthy scholars arrive, none know when he'll return to Mount Liangchang (ancient name of Mao). His heart reveres only the White Flower Lord (a Daoist divinity), spurning worldly honors. Drunk beneath trees, he keeps company with immortal deer; during cave dialogues, he hears of hidden ganoderma. His stone bed remains moss-free despite long reclining, and vine-woven cases may conceal celestial clouds. He still recalls the newly issued Jade Emperor's decree—likely inscribed on green-jade tablets.
This poetic exchange between Tang dynasty poets Lu Guimeng, Pi Rixiu, and Taoist priests from Maoshan (the ancestral seat of the Shangqing lineage) depicts the reclusive lifestyle and spiritual practices of Maoshan Taoists.
The first poem addresses the "Abbot of Huayang Temple," referring to practitioners dwelling in Huayang Cave (where Tao Hongjing once secluded himself). It portrays the emaciated, transcendent appearance of these Taoists who rinse their mouths with "cloud nectar" (a practice based on the belief that consuming celestial mists leads to immortality). Their rooms are darkened by smoke from refining white stones into elixirs, while long-buried cinnabar stains the mountain springs crimson. "Ten Bestowals" denotes the ten symbolic gifts given to disciples during ordination, expressing the poet's yearning to follow the path.
The second poem mentions "True Officials" (celestial bureaucrats) and "Secret Texts" (esoteric scriptures), describing how the Three Radiances (sun, moon, stars) manifest between a meditator's brows while carrying the Five Sacred Peaks Talisman (a powerful fu-lu). Comparing Maoshan's northern caves to a curved canopy and its eastern hollows to a cinnabar furnace, it extols the numinous beauty of Jintan ("Golden Altar," another name for Maoshan), aspiring to emulate the hermit Jiang Fuchu in spiritual cultivation.
The third poem illustrates monastic life: discussing mysteries in icy cave-palaces, casting off worldly garments like dust from a horsetail whisk, blending "dragon embryo" (elixirs) into wine. References to Chicheng (Tiantai Mountain) and the Purple River (Milky Way) evoke Taoist paradises, declaring preference for authentic transmission over Ge Hong's alchemical techniques.
The fourth poem details daily practice: burning incense all day to honor cavern-heaven clouds, exhausting one's shen (spirit) longing for jade trees of immortality. Mentioning the "Azure Jade Register" (a ritual document) and "White Silk Headband" (reclusive attire), it concludes with prayers to Mao Siming (the Three Mao Immortals) for "Vermilion Child" elixirs (recorded in Dengzhen Yinjue).
Pi Rixiu's fifth poem gifts "Doctor Zhang of Huayang" departing for Jingxiang, using "indigo rice" (immortals' food dyed with vaccinium leaves) and "white fur robe" (crane-feather cloak) to depict his cloud-consuming lifestyle, playfully reminding him of Songjiang perch's flavor (alluding to Zhang Han's homesickness).
Lu Guimeng's sixth response employs "Crane Shrine" (Taoist temple) and "Deer Gate" (Pang Degong's hermitage) as metaphors, describing mossy paths and spring-wine stone vats, inviting shared fishing in leisure.
The farewell poem opens with "snow pelting the reed boat," addressing the "Huayang Recluse" whose celestial bearing meets "Cloud Generals" in carefree wandering and "Moon Consorts" in serene meditation. "Deer fetus" denotes precious elixirs, while the immortal market's remedies shimmer like brocade—a final vision of Taoist wonder.
These poems from The Records of Maoshan depict the interactions between Tang dynasty literati such as Lu Guimeng and Pi Rixiu with Maoshan Daoist priests, revealing the reclusive life at this sacred Daoist mountain.
Lu Guimeng's poem describes returning to Maoshan by light boat in winter, mentioning how the "Mao brothers" (referring to the Three Mao Lords Mao Ying, Mao Gu, and Mao Zhong) await his return. They cultivate themselves in the Jade Void Cave (Yuxu Dong), with the Dew-Catching Cup placed upon the frost-covered altar (a ritual platform for Daoist ceremonies). The "Master of Cloudy Markets" and "Young Lord of Mountain Charts" mentioned are both cultivators of the Dao, to whom the poet earnestly recommends paying respects to the Eastern Lord (a Maoshan deity). After snowfall, they sweep the Platform of Embodied Truth (a famous Maoshan temple).
Pi Rixiu's poem paints Maoshan's spring scenery: frozen ponds thawing as Daoist priests meditate in rock-hewn chambers. When the Golden Elixir (Waidan term for alchemical medicine) is first completed, they share it with cranes while studying the teachings of the "Eightfold Convergence" (Daoist scriptures) and the "Seven Perfected Ones" (Quanzhen patriarchs). The poem concludes with mountain-wide peony fragrance, suffused with transcendent imagery.
In a poem addressed to Huayang Runqing (a Maoshan priest), Pi compares himself to a fisherman turned "thirsty Qiang tribesman" (seeker of the Dao). References to accompanying cranes (Daoist avian immortals) and "purchasing lake reflections" depict reclusive living, while the scent of roasting medicinal herbs during illness expresses yearning for the ascetic life.
Lu Guimeng's responding verse praises the recipient's transcendence, carrying classics like Water Classics and Mountain Treatises. "Magistrate Tang" refers to Eastern Jin Daoist priest Tang Xiu, while "Monk Zhu" denotes Buddhist Dharma Master Zhu Fashen—using these allusions to privilege Daoism. Violets staining springs and snow crowning trees portray Maoshan's perennial celestial scenery.
In Pi's later poem to Runqing, "dark and crimson" denote ritual vestments, the "Magpie-Tail Censer" being a Daoist ritual implement. He observes that worldly people only recognize official titles (like "Assistant Magistrate"), while the mountain's true masters are the Mao Lords. Descriptions of gathering mushrooms and airing scriptures sketch monastic routines, ending with playful concern: if Runqing remains reclused at Huayang (Maoshan's别名), who will draft memorials for imperial Fengshan sacrifices? These poems vividly document Tang literati-Daoist poetic exchanges, showcasing the transcendent charm of this sacred Daoist site.
Lu Guimeng's poem expresses his weariness with worldly life and yearning for the Daoist path. He claims to have given up his former passions for poetry and books, even burning his writing brushes and ink, believing the physical body to be the root of suffering while remaining ignorant of the true mysteries of immortality (xuanxun here refers to the profound secrets of transcendent practice).
Pi Rixiu's poem depicts the Daoist practitioner Runqing declining a literati gathering, saying he awaits visits from fellow Daoists. Using imagery like "transcendent guest," "crane feathers," and "square-pupiled gaze" (a characteristic clear-eyed look of adepts), it portrays an image of a practitioner existing beyond mundane concerns. The latter lines suggest the Daoist might merely be recounting the dreams of Immortal Lord Yang (a Daoist deity), permitting mortals a fleeting glimpse of celestial news.
Zhang Ben's responding poem creates an ethereal atmosphere with curling incense smoke from the "Boshan" censer, asking whether Runqing might visit at night, humorously adding that he's already trimmed the red candle by five-tenths (indicating eager anticipation).
In their poetic exchange about "green essence rice," Pi Rixiu details this immortal fare: made with green dragon rice, prepared while avoiding cranes, and consumed with caution lest it summon five-colored auspicious clouds. Lu Guimeng jests that lacking transcendent bones, eating it still wouldn't enable him to ascend skyward.
The farewell poem for Junior Minister Dong's journey to Maoshan references the "Two Xus" (founders Xu Mi and Xu Hui of the Maoshan lineage), using lines like "heaven's glow at dusk permeates the watershed ridge" to depict the mountain's mist-wrapped immortal realm. It concludes that Dong's journey will surely grant him authentic transmission of the celestial scriptures.
These poems from Maoshan Zhi depict the monastic life and natural scenery of Mount Mao, a sacred Daoist mountain. The first poem employs alchemical terminology: "golden well" refers to the alchemical furnace, while "jade-gate cinnabar" denotes refining materials. The poet describes incense dispersing after rituals at the empty altar, hinting at the practitioner's transcendent state beyond worldly concerns.
Lu Guimeng's verses portray Mount Mao shrouded in immortal mists: the "august chariot" suspended high symbolizes the reputation for delivering salvation, while descendants of immortals now serve as court officials. The couplet "clouds congeal around solitary boulders' hues / snow-dried branches echo ancient pines' whispers" captures the mountain's austere beauty with concise brushstrokes. References to "fourfold divine prescriptions" and "regrowing dark locks" allude to the pursuit of longevity through cultivation.
"To a Daoist Adept" details monastic discipline: lifelong adherence to "jade precepts" (Daoist rules) and "elixir formulas," though true transmission remains rare. "Bees offering honey" and "devotees sending alms" illustrate harmonious coexistence with nature and lay patronage. Symbolic imagery like "purple swallows nesting in caves" and "green turtles ascending lotuses" metaphorically represents spiritual attainment, concluding with yearning for sacred scriptures.
"Autumn Night in Mountain Grotto" paints a moonlit scene: osmanthus petals fall as the moon reaches zenith, while Huayang Daoists (another name for Maoshan practitioners) don gossamer robes. The stone altar's ethereal incense and dewdrops dripping from fir trees where cranes roost create a meditative ambiance of crystalline stillness.
"Thoughts for a Huayang Adept" opens with the Five Marvelous Herbs, expressing longing for a fellow cultivator. "Returning to purple pavilions after zhaijiao rites" and "reciting Huangting Jing" depict daily monastic routines. Vivid details like "herb-identifying novices" and "cranes returning to nests" complement wilderness vignettes—"sheep drinking from cliff springs" and "rocks fired by forest edges." Later passages describe ritual scenes: "rainbow-bannered entries into grottoes" and "feathered scepters saluting the Seven Stars," culminating in the meditative state where "the chamber glows with inner light." Though the closing line about "earth-encircling mountain forms" is fragmentary, it resonates with the Daoist cosmology of pervasive spiritual energy.
This passage contains multiple poems related to Maoshan (a famous Daoist mountain). I'll analyze them section by section:
The first poem depicts the life of a mountain hermit: The recluse listens to celestial harmonies in secluded tranquility, refines elixirs in a golden furnace, and wipes moss from wine vessels. Chanting verses between emerald cliffs at dawn and dusk, he drifts between drunken slumber and wakefulness by warm clouds. Bamboo staffs are cut to his height, while friends help build a thatched pavilion. He devoutly worships the Northern Celestial Emperor (an important Daoist deity) while seeking the mysteries of the Eastern Sea (symbolizing immortal realms). Frequent visits to nearby orchards to admire apricot trees alternate with gathering poria cocos (a medicinal herb used in Daoism) from neighboring hills. Half-open doors filter sunlight, as an ancient zither glows in candlelight. He recalls Wang Meng who discussed state affairs while catching lice, and sighs over Guan Ning's (Eastern Han hermit) legend of transforming into a dragon.
The second poem portrays mountain scenery: Moonlight spills before an orchid-curtained bed, a fishing rod rests alone on maple woods. Raindrops intensify the green of grass, while blossoms grow more fragrant in the mist. Waves startle kingfishers, as slanting sunlight through blinds disturbs dragonflies. Battle summons fly when preparing campaigns, anticipating victory monuments at Yanshan. Unbridled steeds stand ready, while empty pouches hold only autumn fireflies. He laments his quiescence like a female bird, while others soar like water pouring from rooftops. Content to be useless timber in deep valleys, adrift like duckweed on vast seas. Casting off worldly attachments clarifies the mind, gazing into distant serenity sharpens vision. A skiff and the Zhengao (a Daoist scripture) stand prepared, holding immortal texts as the boat drifts freely.
"Two Poems for He Weiyi of Maoshan" - First: The twin peaks of Maoshan rival Jiuhuashan (a Buddhist mountain), but whose immortal traces remain today? Han dynasty transcendents rode cloud-borne cranes, while Sichuan springs bloomed in cavern depths. Following mist to seek waterfalls, treading remnant snow to gather lingzhi mushrooms. Recently having mastered the Huangting Jing (essential Daoist scripture), refining the soul at night, inhaling dawn's rosy mists.
Second: Once holding office in the mortal world, now as if dreaming in an immortal abode. The body light as if clad in rainbow silks, the hair coiled high like rising smoke. Warm mountain slopes shun meat, while peak-growing leeks and cave peaches still thrive. Hearing tales of future immortal quests, the soul grows ever more enchanted.
"Seeing Off an Official Retiring to Maoshan": At dawn instructing boys to saddle horses, bound for Great Mao Peak. Meager official stipends may cease, but cloud-mists suffice as sustenance. Hidden frost dyes pine needles crimson, sparse rain chills the thatched hall. Again carving mid-peak stones, rebuilding the moon-worship altar (Daoist ceremonial site).
"Zhenren Worship Ode at Juqu Mountain with Preface": On the second day of the twelfth month, Juqu Mountain Daoists pay homage to the Zhenren (referring to Maoshan school patriarchs) at Great Mao Peak, with seekers journeying thousands of miles. The author remains distant from Huayang Grotto-Heaven (Maoshan's primary sacred cave)...
The text comprises three sections that depict a Daoist practitioner's contemplations and reclusive life.
The first section portrays the practitioner's cultivation scene on Maoshan (a sacred Daoist mountain). At dawn, the cultivator hears the Jiuhua qing (a Daoist ritual chime) resonating with cold mountain springs, while the Shijue banners (Daoist ceremonial flags) flutter in the mist-laden air. Burning incense and holding scripture scrolls, he concentrates in anticipation of the arrival of the Siming Xingjun (the Star Lord of Lifespan). Under fading stars and a pale moon, his recitation of the Kongdong Lingzhang (Daoist sacred texts) seems to awaken the mountain's spring vitality. When sending off the deities, he performs silent rituals, watching the celestial chariot ascend with the sound of fire bells, leaving only the lingering echo of jade pendants.
The second section expresses autumn sentiments addressed to the Huayang mountain recluse. Combing his hair at dawn, the poet yearns for his homeland, his frail body feeling autumn's chill more acutely. He compares himself to a futilely chirping katydid, desiring mountain seclusion yet finding no path. His simple hermit life involves clearing weeds from paths, identifying wild plants by broken gates, harvesting garden vegetables, listening to qin music while gazing at the sea. Using the "planting beans"典故 (alluding to unfulfilled political aspirations), he resembles impoverished eastern neighbors maintaining their integrity. Though well-read, he can only express himself like Qu Yuan wearing orchids or Zhang Han longing for water shield - symbolic gestures of unfulfilled ideals.
The third section continues lamenting unrealized ambitions. The poet likens himself to southern hermits wearing pheasant-feather caps, passing time with alchemy (Neidan) and tea. Withered reeds and parasol trees outside his window intensify the desolation - he mocks himself for lacking Zhang Han's philosophical detachment, instead resembling the unrecognized genius Mi Heng. Though honing his skills like polishing spears and jade discs (mastering Daoist and Confucian arts), he can only maintain purity during chaotic times, silently lamenting his ill-fated era.
This passage depicts the attitude and spiritual state of Daoist cultivators navigating turbulent times. The general meaning is:
Those who cultivate the Dao see through life and death, much like the loyal minister Wang Han during Wang Mang's usurpation of the Han dynasty, who endured torture without changing his principles. They understand that life's fortunes and misfortunes are predestined, not to be forcibly sought. Some become slaves suffering humiliation, while others attain high office through casual conversation—yet Daoist practitioners transcend such worldly gains and losses.
Spiritual cultivation is like chasing the sun or pursuing swift winds, unconcerned with distance. Amid worldly dust, they maintain sincere camaraderie, valuing trust like the exemplary Ji Bu. They can compose stirring manifestos like Sima Xiangru or volunteer for missions like Zhong Jun. A true cultivator, flexible yet unyielding, surpasses a thousand troops in worth.
For their country, they lightly regard family; guarding borders, they value both farming and warfare. Suddenly bestowed with imperial wine, they soon tire of aristocratic banquets. In silence, they speak sparingly; at leisure, they play chess while contemplating mysteries. Well-versed in military strategy (the Sima Fa), they surpass even the mighty armies of General Ershi. Enduring frontier snowstorms with banners snapping in bitter winds, they seize moments to reclaim lost territory.
Now martial prowess shakes foreign lands while civil virtues nourish all directions. Ritual vessels stand in perfect order, and transformative teachings show initial results. Villainy is uprooted like tender sprouts, while integrity stands firm like pines and bamboo. Court officials don blue-trimmed robes, while envoys are welcomed with embroidered silks. The heavenly Dao opens like parting clouds, and turbid waves gradually calm.
True scholars disdain speaking of tyranny; the worthy feel shame in flattery. Some lean on staffs singing pastoral verses, others take up brushes chronicling distant campaigns. Their talent rivals Cao Zhi's yet remains humble; their libraries outshine Hui Shi's collection. They cherish children like Xie An and value nephews like Xi Jian—regretting only their humble dwellings prevent gifting precious objects.
The noble scholars' demeanor fades into distance, leaving reveries of rivers and lakes. Fishing boats appear and vanish among oars; strange peaks stretch endlessly under clear skies. Purple water chestnuts clamor by shores; rice fragrance wafts through villages. Straw-hatted fishermen embody rustic simplicity; guard dogs bear fierce visages. Officials wear white ramie robes; farmers carry bamboo lunch baskets. Fertile fields crisscross, nurturing a long-lived, prosperous populace.
In company, joy flows harmoniously; in solitude, years pass remarkably. Crickets chirp by walls; cranes dance in courtyards. Watchtower drums drift on winds; neighboring zithers charm like moonlight. Not yet having attained rank through writing, how could they expect lavish stipends? Like lead ore needing constant refinement or an axe requiring repeated tempering, they often fear being incorrigible as rotten wood—yet diligence surpasses polishing jade.
With concentrated spirit, they study ancient texts, absorbing their essence. Opening dust-covered book chests, they read by cold lamps through the night. Quietly they ponder literary works, leisurely critiquing historians' accounts. Heaven and earth naturally shift between clouds and sun; mountains and rivers undergo their own transformations. The world distinguishes only between the thief Zhi and the virtuous Liuxia Hui—but who understands the equality between the short-lived Shangzi and the long-lived Pengzu? Xiang Yu didn't truly have double pupils; the sage Kui had but one foot.
They sing boldly and drink deeply like Ruan Ji, transcendently detached like Zhuangzi observing sacrificial oxen. Missing teeth need no mention; expansive minds require no filling. Simply tending the alchemical furnace (referring to Daoist practice) naturally refines their true nature.
These poems from Maoshan Zhi depict the immortal landscapes and ascetic life on Mount Mao (a sacred Daoist mountain in present-day Jurong, Jiangsu). The first poem paints the mountain scenery with rich imagery: a low bamboo-woven bed, a small red willow table, swaying poplars during frostfall, and drifting mist. Swallows nest on asarum branches, while screens display drunken gibbon patterns. Mist flows between pines and cypresses, and cascading springs strike jade with crystalline sounds.
The poet contrasts spiritual temperaments: some like Zong Bing (a Southern Dynasties recluse) lose themselves in landscapes, while others like Liu Zhen (a Jian'an era poet) arrive despite illness. Country meals feature wild rice stems, riverside merchants hawk sugarcane. Ceremonial tile drums escort deities, guests drink from porcelain cups. Bronze swords flash during boating, fish-scaring clappers echo with distant temple bells. Flocks cross vast mountains, clear streams mirror the procession.
Later verses declare ascetic resolve: abandoning concern for warfare, taking only sickles to till fields. Cool breezes prove elusive, so metal chimes suffice. Lamenting insects gnawing bitter herbs (symbolizing austere living), yet envying deer grazing freely on duckweed. Melancholy lingers, songs find no echo. Though lacking the true transmission of Master Huangshi (Zhang Liang's teacher), one may still discourse on white jade (symbolizing purity). A temperament fierce as torrents, words decisive as weeding. In this secluded spot, one plays the zither alone with wine, strolling staff in hand by wind-swept streams. External phenomena dissolve as the inner self forges a covenant with this topsy-turvy world.
The final passage describes cultivation environs: plucking the zither of the Numinous Consort (a celestial maiden), opening golden cases to play the immortal's reed pipes. Dwelling in bamboo-ringed mountain retreats, thoughts linger on Penglai and Yingzhou isles. Envisioning phoenix crowns adorned with pearls, chasing kingfishers with emerald plumes. Mist veils deep curtains, cloud-borne chimes sound crystalline. Talismans (Fulu) record graded ranks, Huayang Grotto teems with fellow practitioners. Incense burns through days of seated stillness, contemplating layered celestial realms. Hiding in Mount Yanzi's twilight, listening to the void like Bohai's roar. The poet vows to plant celestial millet and notch arrows to strike whales (symbolizing grand spiritual ambition).
Du Xunhe's verses succinctly outline Mount Mao's transcendent paths: each step leads beyond mortal boundaries, where no fishermen or woodcutters tread—only roaming herds of elk. Springs burst from stone crevices, pine tops pierce clouds. Daoists bow beneath stars and moon to honor the Mao Lords (the Three Mao Perfected Lords, founding patriarchs).
Li Jianxun's farewell to Adept Yu (a neidan practitioner) notes: though unsure how many years he's fasted, his face still glows like peach blossoms. Half-drunk, he departs the city gates, treading snow in thin robes. Dawn echoes through Mao's grottoes, stone chambers retain cloud shadows. He cautions against emulating Qin dynasty adepts who vanished without trace.
Pan You's send-off for Recluse Xu portrays: the celestial altar's clouds white as snow, jade grotto waters chiming like zithers—these white clouds and flowing streams have purified hearts for millennia. Setting forth with cloth satchels, mountain winds fill the long road. Once you enter Huayang's grotto-heaven, a thousand years may pass before your trace is found again.
In his poem "Lodging at Maoshan," Xu Xuan writes: The Mao brothers (Mao Ying, Mao Gu, Mao Zhong) and Xu Xun (referring to Daoist patriarchs like Mao Ying and Xu Xun) were enlightened beings who embodied the numinous Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth, ascending to immortality together. Though their temples still stand on Maoshan today, such authentic adepts are rarely seen in the mundane world. Journeying alone to this sacred site can indeed free one from worldly attachments, yet hollow reputation may still hinder the genuine pursuit of Dao. Recalling how they encouraged each other in cultivation within these mountains, the cloud-veiled grotto heavens (Dongtian) still maintain their eternal spring-like vitality.
This poem appears in Volume 28 of the Maoshan Zhi (Records of Maoshan), expressing the author's reverence for Maoshan's Daoist patriarchs. Maoshan (in present-day Jurong, Jiangsu) was the birthplace of the Shangqing (Highest Clarity) tradition. The "cloudy grotto" mentioned refers to famous cultivation sites like Huayang Cave. Through contrasting the flourishing era of the patriarchs' enlightenment with contemporary solitude, Xu Xuan contemplates the true essence of Daoist practice.
Source text: Kanripo 漢籍リポジトリ（KR5a0316）; Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0 · Report an error / feedback