《鳴鶴餘音》Vol. 6
About this page. The original text of 《鳴鶴餘音》 Vol. 6 (Taixuan 太玄部, 9 volumes) is shown in Classical Chinese as transmitted in the Kanripo (Kyoto University) edition. An English interpretation of the 10 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
Volume Six of Echoes of Cranes' Songs contains several celestial poems collected by Daoist priest Peng Zhizhong, revealing cultivators' insights into worldly life and spiritual practice.
He Xiangu's Eight Sounds of Ganzhou depicts people's deluded state of chasing dreams: they rush about everywhere, "digging the earth to seek heaven," unaware of the true mysterious Dao. The cultivator laments how people indulge in illusions, squandering precious opportunities for enlightenment. The poem mentions the alchemical key of "mercury collecting lead" (a Neidan term denoting the harmonization of Yin-Yang), emphasizing that only with purified mind can one avoid demonic disturbances, ultimately reaching the awakened state where "being emerges from non-being, and being returns to non-being."
The second poem uses alchemical metaphors: pouring spring-snow-like pure consciousness into the Dantian (jade furnace), refining it continuously with true fire until achieving unmovable meditation after three thousand temperings. Symbols like "yellow sprout" (initial manifestation of internal elixir) and "auspicious lotus" (symbol of Dao-fruit) illustrate how authentic longevity lies precisely in this cultivation process.
Treading on Snow criticizes empty scriptural theorizing without actual practice: flowery doctrines are like drawing cakes to satisfy hunger—only relinquishing attachments and purifying desires reveals the true path. The concluding line "wearing out iron shoes in fruitless search" clarifies that the Dao isn't distant, but resides within the "inch-square" (heart).
Two poems titled Green Willow Tips employ imagery of desolate palaces to lament how fame and fortune wither beauty and erode all things across ages. The second presents the realization of "neither arising nor ceasing," urging people to avoid clinging to external things and not live as "walking corpses" wasting their days.
Plum Blossom Prelude, voiced as an aged Mount Emei recluse, expresses the realization that poverty and prosperity are equally illusory dreams. Having penetrated worldly dualities of good and evil, the old man finds liberation precisely through destitution, resonating with the Daoist cultivation truth of "daily diminishing for the Dao."
The Cries of Cranes in Flight collection primarily conveys the attitudes and spiritual states of Daoist practitioners.
The first poem advises against entanglement in worldly fame and profit, urging the maintenance of inner purity. Solitary freedom brings true ease—pay no heed to others' criticisms, for leisure naturally brings the company of clear breezes and bright moonlight. Upon reaching certain cultivation stages, one transcends the fetters of life and death, roaming the Great Void (Taixu, the Daoist cosmological space) like an immortal, completely unfettered.
The second poem emphasizes avoiding disputes over right and wrong, as good and evil ultimately receive their due retribution. One must sweep away worldly attachments to preserve the original pure nature, thereby achieving "long life and enduring vision" (a Daoist cultivation term denoting longevity through practice). When encountering predestined individuals, one may transmit the mysteries of Xiyi (referring to the profound principles in Laozi's Daodejing: "Looked at but unseen—it is called formless; listened to but unheard—it is called soundless").
The third poem depicts an auspicious snowfall heralding abundance, celebrating an era of peace and prosperity. It advocates the unity of Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism), promotes virtues like filial piety and loyalty, and offers blessings for the emperor's longevity.
The fourth poem portrays the life of a recluse—lying abed until midday, reveling in the joy of dreams. This state of transcending life and death defies verbal expression, much like a mute person trying to explain a riddle.
The fifth poem cautions against judging others' faults while urging constant self-reflection. Do not be troubled by past deluded thoughts—let them dissipate like morning mist.
This scripture describes the process through which a Daoist cultivator attains immortality by practicing inner observation and severing worldly attachments.
The practitioner must first tame the restless mind (the "wild horse of thoughts") through neiguan (inner observation) practice to purify the spirit and transform the mundane body into an immortal form. Facing worldly affairs requires decisive resolution, as the true path to immortality offers no shortcuts. Through sincere practice with an empty mind, when merit and practice reach perfection, one will naturally ascend to the celestial realms (chaoyuan) riding auspicious clouds and dwell in immortal palaces.
A human lifespan of a hundred years passes in an instant, with the endless cycle of rebirth (the "wheel of bone-selling") repeating the patterns of life and death. To transcend this cycle, one must seize the present moment and break through the constraints of emptiness. There's no need to obsessively chant the Nanhua Jing (Zhuangzi) or rely on external aids—the key lies in severing deluded thoughts and realizing one's true nature. Maintain steadfast resolve, as clear and bright as the moon over mountain peaks.
Daoist cultivation emphasizes realization over attachment to literal meanings. Preserve the original purity of mind, using unwavering will to cut through the "mountains of affection and seas of love," breaking the bonds of emptiness. By refining jing (essence), qi (vital energy), and shen (spirit) (the "nine yang"), one ultimately forges an immortal body (the "crimson snow"), manifesting perfect realization amidst rosy clouds (the "bright moon").
The final verses depict the cultivator's serene lifestyle: sitting alone by a stream at sunset listening to spring waters, playing the zither through cold nights in forgetfulness; or the pure solitude of a mountain monk's retreat, a fishing boat moored at dusk. The cultivator dwells in bamboo-fenced thatched cottages, wearing coarse hemp robes, boiling polygonatum roots and brewing atractylodes, living in simple contentment. Beneath solitary peaks and the bright moon, one enters the mystical state of spirit-wandering through immortal realms.
The Song of the Cranes presents two distinct realms of cultivation. The first four verses depict a life of carefree reclusion, while the subsequent five reveal the profound mysteries of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.
The initial quartet portrays an existence transcending worldly concerns: Neither the immortal abodes of Langyuan and Yingzhou (legendary celestial realms) nor the opulent towers of Golden Valley Garden can compare to the serene simplicity of a thatched hut. Wildflowers bloom in their season, wine flows freely for guests, and one remains untroubled by fame or disgrace—sleeping when weary, drinking when thirsty, singing when intoxicated. A low wall frames the small window, where pond reflections mingle with artificial hills as the clear breeze and bright moon keep company. A wooden table and wicker chair face mountain vistas; when visitors arrive without wine, plain tea and quiet conversation suffice. Sweeping the courtyard yet leaving moss undisturbed, allowing crimson leaves to carpet the steps, one plants pines, bamboos, and plum trees to grow freely. Worldly affairs follow Heaven's decree—why fret over wealth and honor when leisure itself is abundance?
The latter quintet distills the essence of Neidan practice: During the first night watch, one tames the "mind-monkey and thought-horse" (metaphors for restless thoughts), attaining great awakening that cools the heart-mind and reveals original purity. In the second watch, Yin and Yang harmonize as Kan (Water trigram) and Li (Fire trigram) couple, circulating the celestial orbit. By the third watch, the foundation stabilizes—the golden elixir coalesces through Zhou Tian (macrocosmic orbit) circulation, where metal and wood intermingle as the "crow and hare" (sun and moon) traverse the sky. At the fourth watch, ritual drums and golden roosters herald the passage through the Three Passes (critical energy centers), where dragon and tiger (symbolizing Yin and Yang Qi) move freely, fire and water perfectly balanced to refine the golden pill and cinnabar essence. These verses unveil the alchemical transformation of Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) in Neidan's arcane process.
At the fifth watch when dawn approaches, when one's cultivation merits reach perfection, one transcends the bondage of the physical body, freely traversing between the realms of form and formlessness, revealing the original true countenance. This is the eternal joy of immortals throughout the ages—the state of everlasting life without decay. At this moment, one receives a purple edict summoning them to the Jade Emperor's celestial court, riding auspicious clouds back to the Penglai fairy isles.
Ma Danyang's "Two Wild Geese" poetry series describes the cultivation process: During the first watch, one must focus intently in seated meditation, observing distracting thoughts like watching monkeys at play, reducing sleep to prevent the dissipation of Shen (spirit). When merits become as countless as the sands of the Ganges, the achievement of gongfu (cultivation skill) occurs naturally. In the second watch, the Yin-Yang energies circulate, with "lead" (kidney Jing/essence) dissolving "mercury" (heart Shen/spirit), the two transforming and intermingling until they fill heaven and earth. This harmonious Qi originates from the void, like a nine-curved pearl threading through the cosmos—this is the natural Dao itself. At the third watch during the full moon, one enjoys celestial bliss, drinking the wine of immortality to return to youthful vigor, wandering freely in immortal realms. By the fourth watch, one's state becomes perfectly clear; after two or three years of arduous cultivation, one may mount phoenixes to ascend to the immortal domain. One must understand that language cannot convey the ultimate truth—the "monkey" (restless mind) and "horse" (scattering thoughts) are fundamentally one. At the fifth watch, startled awake by the celestial horn, one realizes the immortal dream is precisely the moment of awakening, comprehending that heaven and earth are fundamentally unified in primordial Qi, where the waxing and waning of years occur within the unmoving vacuum.
Master Fan Zhenren's "Step by Step Graceful" recounts cultivation insights: Dwelling in ancient tombs to practice, every movement—walking, standing, sitting, reclining—becomes a dance capturing sudden enlightenment in the void. Since ancient times, cultivators speak of "dragons and tigers" (Yin-Yang), yet few truly understand. After receiving oral transmission of the true formulas for "transplanting and connecting" (a Neidan term for Yin-Yang interaction), the experience becomes like a mute tasting honey—inexpressible in words. Softness and pliability are the roots of practice; the great Dao is real and unfailing, where lead and mercury (Jing-Qi-Shen) truly exist, with "water and fire" (heart and kidney) perfectly balanced, employing both "civil and martial fire" (moderate and intense cultivation phases). Authentic practice yields results swift as wind, yet without guidance from an enlightened teacher, one ultimately cannot fathom these mysteries.
(Note: Terms like lead-mercury, dragon-tiger, water-fire are all Neidan metaphors representing Jing-Qi-Shen, Yin-Yang, heart-kidney energy systems respectively; "transplanting and connecting" refers to specific methods for harmonizing Yin-Yang energies.)
(Adopting a colloquial tone to express the carefree realm of a Daoist practitioner)
Cross-legged on the heated kang, humming a tune while dozing off—when sleep comes, I let it take me peacefully. Having seen through and overturned the laws of Yin-Yang, I laugh at you still sitting there foolishly, wasting your time in vain.
(Using drunkenness as a metaphor for transcendent detachment)
A poor man drinks fine wine, tipsy and carefree, with no worldly concerns weighing on his heart. Let others slander and defame—being a fool, deaf, and mute is the true practice.
(Expounding the natural Dao)
Tranquil Wuwei (non-action) aligns with the heavenly Dao; the field of the heart naturally grows spiritual herbs. The best is when we understand without speaking—in silent darkness, the Danzao (alchemical furnace) is closed (meaning deliberate cultivation ceases), and in a moment, the great Dao is achieved.
(Criticizing rigid cultivation)
Don’t mistake stubbornness for sincerity—how can you refine the Yangshen (immortal spirit) like this? Nine out of ten cling to empty stillness. Only through dual cultivation of nature and life (Xingming Shuangxiu) is the foundation secure—just as flour will surely become bread.
(Lamenting worldly ignorance)
Lingzhi and celestial herbs grow everywhere, yet no one recognizes them. Sins pile up, hard to absolve—I’d like to explain, but fear you’d dismiss it as nonsense.
(Emphasizing the importance of practice)
Those who believe will naturally understand; those who don’t need not be forced. Don’t wait until you’re thirsty to dig a well—watching you struggle in vain, better to let go of what’s useless.
(Describing the state of cultivation)
Most cherished is idle solitude, the mind clear, all stray thoughts extinguished—no distinctions remain. Dark clouds scatter, the night sky pure, the bright moon shining through—such a state is beyond words.
(Scene of nighttime meditation)
At the first watch, sitting in stillness, driving away thoughts like herding sheep. Lighting the heart’s lamp to illuminate the original face—within the inch-square field (the heart), a luminous jewel hangs, radiating light.
(Deeper meditative state)
At the second watch, silence undisturbed by dust, a pair of golden toads (Yin-Yang Qi) circling up and down. The Three Corpses (malevolent spirits within the body) flee like thunder, while jade-like snowflakes descend as an auspicious sign.
(Crucial moment of Zi-hour cultivation)
At the third watch, when Yang Qi first stirs, mother and child meet before the golden palace (Yin-Yang union). The spiritual tortoise (true Yang from the kidneys) drinks deep of the golden crow’s (true Yin from the heart) blood—Qi flows unhindered through the Three Passes (Weilü, Jiaji, Yuzhen), and a thousand rays of light lift the moon over the Western River.
(Manifestation of the Golden Elixir)
At the fourth watch, when all sound fades, inner vision beholds the heart’s blossoms in spring. The central palace (spleen-earth) opens, and the true man appears—a single Golden Elixir ascends straight to Kunlun (the crown of the head).
As dawn approaches the fifth watch, the practitioner fulfills their cultivation aspiration, with the yin and yang energies (dragon and tiger) merging within, as if capable of lifting the Yellow River's waters skyward. At this moment, thunderous roars resound, confounding even ghosts and deities—only the cultivator clearly perceives their original, true nature.
(Seventh Verse)
After the vegetarian meal, strolling leisurely,
Singing alone with none to echo.
Woodcutters in the mountains join with folk songs,
Crossing ridge after ridge.
Even high-ranking officials and nobles
Cannot compare to this carefree joy of mine.
(Eighth Verse)
Year after year, time accumulates,
Living each day by fate—why fret over trivial grievances?
Yet pitiful how youth slips through fingers like counting beads,
Don’t wait until Lunar December’s end (metaphor for life’s close)
To regret what’s lost too late.
(Ninth Verse)
I urge all to listen closely:
Without understanding yin-yang principles,
How can one grasp the Dao of cultivation?
At the outset, refine lead and mercury (symbolizing vital essences),
And naturally, the tortoise and snake (symbolizing balanced water and fire)
Will guide you to the true path.
(Tenth Verse)
Wise ones, hear this clearly:
Life’s sixty-year cycle arrives in the blink of an eye.
Only by transcending the mortal cage
Can one tread the path of longevity,
Lest the underworld’s ghostly envoys come to claim your soul.
(Ma Danyang’s Hanging Golden Chains)
At the first watch, sit in stillness, regulating breath,
Gently guiding the dragon and tiger (yin-yang energies) to circulate.
When qi penetrates the Three Passes (coccyx, spine’s ridge, and jade pillow)
Rising straight to the Niwan Palace (crown point),
Like a dragon coiled around the golden cauldron,
A tiger encircling the Yellow Court (another name for dantian)—
Such cultivation merits no casual regard.
At the second watch, master the subtle flow
Of true yin-yang energies, ensuring the Three Passes stay aligned.
The maiden (li-fire) and infant (kan-water) energies intertwine,
While the metal lord (lung qi) and yellow dame (spleen qi)
Harmonize effortlessly.
At the third watch, the bright moon hangs high,
Upright qi fills heaven and earth,
Sending malevolent spirits fleeing a thousand miles.
No need for medicinal elixirs (knife and spoon),
For the tortoise and snake (water-fire energies) of the ocean’s depths
Coil and spiral of their own accord.
The fourth watch is best for studying true scriptures,
Each profound line reveals cultivation’s methods.
This practice needs neither water-fire balance
Nor charcoal-fueled refinement—
The golden elixir (neidan) attained in the end
Cannot be bought for ten thousand taels of gold.
At the fifth watch, dawn’s golden rooster crows,
A joyful soul claps and laughs.
Like a well-fed ox resting in peace,
When cultivation reaches fulfillment,
A celestial decree (signifying Daoist realization) will descend.
(Immortal Sun’s Embroidered Eyebrows)
This passage traces the stages of neidan (internal alchemy) practice through the progression of night watches, depicting both inner visions and shifting states of mind. From breath regulation and foundation-building to yin-yang harmonization, expelling negativity, contemplating scriptures, and finally achieving completion, it outlines the full Daoist alchemical process. The verses employ rich metaphorical language—dragons and tigers, tortoises and snakes, metal lords and yellow dames—all symbolizing distinct energies within the body. Through precise methods, the practitioner guides these forces toward the ultimate goal of immortality and transcendent clarity.
This The Lingering Notes of Cranes' Cries explains the process and realms of Daoist cultivation for achieving immortality in accessible language. The first section describes how spiritual practice liberates one from the suffering of hellish rebirths, with Quanzhen masters like Tan Chuduan, Ma Yu, and Qiu Chuji—key figures of the Northern Daoist tradition—acting as compassionate saviors guiding sentient beings like the Bodhisattva Guanyin.
The second section advises abandoning ignorance and leaving worldly family ties. One must wield the sword of wisdom to sever the three poisons of greed, anger, and delusion (Buddhist terminology), dissolving distinctions between self/other and right/wrong, while eradicating past karmic debts without creating new ones.
The third section explains that cultivating immortality requires discerning lead and mercury (Neidan terms representing yin and yang qi), following the subtle path described by Laozi in the Daode Jing ("Looked at but unseen—this is called 'dim'; listened to but unheard—this is called 'rare'"). Practitioners must train diligently day and night, wearing coarse robes and eating plain food while sustaining themselves through alms.
The fourth section depicts adepts as free as wild cranes and idle clouds, dwelling in thatched hermitages while studying precious Daoist scriptures (called "golden texts"), accompanied by mountain streams, bamboo groves, moonlight, and clear breezes.
The fifth section emphasizes restraining restless thoughts (compared to a "monkey-mind and horse-heart") from being tempted by the six thieves (senses and cognition), entering the chaotic void of meditative stillness to stabilize one's nature (xing) and vital force (ming).
The sixth section describes harmonizing wood and metal (representing liver and lung qi in the Five Phases system), causing the four symbols (lesser/greater yang and yin) and five phases (wood, fire, earth, metal, water) to converge. This achieves the state where qi condenses and shen gathers, establishing the cyclical flow of yin-yang.
The seventh section portrays the breakthrough in cultivation: spring thunder rumbles, yellow sprouts (Neidan term for nascent yang qi) emerge, white snow (yin qi) swirls, sweet dew descends, and various auspicious signs manifest.
The eighth section explains how advanced practitioners journey spiritually through heaven and earth, witnessing the sun and moon as flying birds and running hares (ancient metaphors: golden crow for sun, jade hare for moon), while dragon and tiger (yin-yang qi) unite to revolve the cosmic pivot.
The ninth section compares Neidan practice to turning the Dharma wheel—the river chariot (qi circulation) completes thirty heavenly revolutions (paralleling a wheel's thirty spokes), refining solar and lunar essences within the golden crucible (Dantian).
The tenth section depicts the formation of the sacred embryo (highest Neidan achievement), where the maiden (yin shen) attains perfect communion—sipping celestial nectar while playing the qin zither to produce divine music.
The eleventh section reveals the profound mystery of mutual generation between being and non-being: perceiving "non-being" within "being," and "being" within "non-being," ultimately transcending duality to return to the Great Void (cosmic origin).
The twelfth section states that upon completing the work, adepts may journey to Penglai's immortal isles (legendary eastern paradise) to attend the Jasper Pool banquet (Queen Mother of the West's peach festival), gathering with all celestial beings.
The concluding section identifies these as the immortal companions of true cultivation—those who serve high-ranking transcendents and the Sacred Mother Queen of the West (supreme Daoist goddess).
The Echoes of Cranes scripture depicts the carefree state of immortality achieved through Daoist cultivation and the essential techniques of spiritual practice.
The opening passage portrays the life of an immortal: clad in celestial robes, riding phoenixes through the heavens, wandering freely within the ever-radiant palaces of the divine realm. Following this, the text employs the Wuye'er song form across eleven stanzas to expound on the principles of cultivation:
The first stanza uses natural imagery as a metaphor for spiritual attainment, stating that unless one reaches the profound state of the "Cloud Gate" (symbolizing advanced Daoist methods), its mysteries remain inaccessible. The second mocks the ignorant, comparing them to insensate blocks of wood. The third introduces impossible objects like "tortoise-hair whisks" and "rabbit-horn awls," hinting at the inscrutability of celestial secrets. The fourth reveals the innate truth in ordinary things, emphasizing that cultivation must be grounded in fundamental reality.
The fifth stanza addresses the core of practice: subduing scattered thoughts (the "monkey-mind and horse-will") and nourishing Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) until they naturally align with the Dao. The sixth describes the sudden awakening that shatters conventional understanding. Stanzas seven through eleven each begin with the image of the "moon on heaven’s edge," using lunar phases to symbolize Neidan (internal alchemy) practices—the harmonization of Yin-Yang and the fusion of "lead and mercury" (alchemical terms for refining Jing, Qi, and Shen within the body). The balance of "eight ounces of mercury, eight ounces of lead" underscores the equilibrium essential to the path.
The concluding Man Ting Fang poem crystallizes the message: human life is fleeting as lightning; one must see through the illusion of the physical form and seek the true method of immortality. Practitioners should commune with the clear wind and bright moon, drink celestial dew, and ultimately merge with the Dao in perfect unity.
Recurring terms like "lead and mercury" and "dragon and tiger" are alchemical metaphors representing the interplay of Yin and Yang energies within the body during Neidan cultivation.
This passage comes from the sixth volume of the Daoist classic Echoes of the Cranes' Song, depicting the tacit understanding and shared pursuit among cultivators. The general meaning conveys that practitioners, united by the same aspiration, gather to witness the divine radiance of the heavenly Dao (referring to the sacred revelations attained during cultivation). They meet to exchange insights, jointly seek enlightened masters to explore the true essence of the Dao, and together chant the Daoist hymn Courtyard Filled with Fragrance.
Courtyard Filled with Fragrance is a commonly used Daoist lyric title, often expressing the state of realizing truth through cultivation. The repeated use of the character "同" (tóng, "together") emphasizes the cultivators' shared purpose and mutual support in their practice. This scene of collective cultivation reflects the Daoist tradition of valuing master-disciple transmission and progressing together on the path.
Source text: Kanripo 漢籍リポジトリ（KR5d0123）; Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0 · Report an error / feedback