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Visiting the Temple of Mount Heng, Staying Overnight at the Mountain Monastery, and Inscribing the Gate Tower
English Poetic Translation
The Five Great Peaks hold rank beside the realm's Three Dukes,
encircling lands with central Song to ground the map.
Here in the fiery south where wild domains breed ghosts,
Heaven bestows fierce majesty upon this craggy trap.
The mid-slopes choke in billowing clouds and hidden mists;
who dares to climb and scale the summit's final height?
I arrived precisely when the autumn rains had set,
under gloomy skies devoid of any cleansing light.
I gathered in my thoughts to pray, and felt a stir—
do not the upright find a path where spirits blend?
Then suddenly the mists withdrew, the peaks broke forth;
I gazed aloft to where they prop the azure end.
The Purple Canopy connects with pillars of the sky,
while Stone Granaries heap high around Zhurong's domain.
Awestruck and chilled to bone, I dismounted to bow,
hurrying past the pines to reach the sacred fane.
White walls and crimson pillars caught a shifting gleam;
bright blues and reds adorned with gods and demons stood.
I mounted steps, stooped low to offer wine and meat,
wishing to lay bare my meager gratitude.
The temple warden, aged and versed in holy signs,
peered close with practiced care and bowed respectfully,
And handed me the sacred blocks to cast my fate,
proclaiming this the highest grace, unmatched and free.
Exiled to southern wastes, I count it luck to live,
content with humble food and clothes until the end.
All hopes of rank or high estate have long since died;
even if gods would bless, no merit can they mend.
That night I climbed the upper tower of a Buddhist shrine,
where stars and moon through hazy clouds gleamed faint and cold.
A gibbon wailed, the temple bell announced the dawn,
as the chill, radiant sun uprose in eastern gold.
encircling lands with central Song to ground the map.
Here in the fiery south where wild domains breed ghosts,
Heaven bestows fierce majesty upon this craggy trap.
The mid-slopes choke in billowing clouds and hidden mists;
who dares to climb and scale the summit's final height?
I arrived precisely when the autumn rains had set,
under gloomy skies devoid of any cleansing light.
I gathered in my thoughts to pray, and felt a stir—
do not the upright find a path where spirits blend?
Then suddenly the mists withdrew, the peaks broke forth;
I gazed aloft to where they prop the azure end.
The Purple Canopy connects with pillars of the sky,
while Stone Granaries heap high around Zhurong's domain.
Awestruck and chilled to bone, I dismounted to bow,
hurrying past the pines to reach the sacred fane.
White walls and crimson pillars caught a shifting gleam;
bright blues and reds adorned with gods and demons stood.
I mounted steps, stooped low to offer wine and meat,
wishing to lay bare my meager gratitude.
The temple warden, aged and versed in holy signs,
peered close with practiced care and bowed respectfully,
And handed me the sacred blocks to cast my fate,
proclaiming this the highest grace, unmatched and free.
Exiled to southern wastes, I count it luck to live,
content with humble food and clothes until the end.
All hopes of rank or high estate have long since died;
even if gods would bless, no merit can they mend.
That night I climbed the upper tower of a Buddhist shrine,
where stars and moon through hazy clouds gleamed faint and cold.
A gibbon wailed, the temple bell announced the dawn,
as the chill, radiant sun uprose in eastern gold.
Classical Chinese & Pinyin
五嶽祭秩皆三公，四方環鎮嵩當中。
火維地荒足妖怪，天假神柄專其雄。
噴雲泄霧藏半腹，雖有絕頂誰能窮。
我來正逢秋雨節，陰氣晦昧無清風。
潛心默禱若有應，豈非正直能感通。
須臾靜掃衆峯出，仰見突兀撐青空。
紫蓋連延接天柱，石廩騰擲堆祝融。
森然魄動下馬拜，松柏一逕趨靈宮。
粉牆丹柱動光彩，鬼物圖畫填青紅。
升階傴僂薦脯酒，欲以菲薄明其衷。
廟令老人識神意，睢盱偵伺能鞠躬。
手持桮珓導我擲，雲此最吉餘難同。
竄逐蠻荒幸不死，衣食纔足甘長終。
侯王將相望久絕，神縱欲福難爲功。
夜投佛寺上高閣，星月掩暎雲朣朧。
猿鳴鐘動不知曙，杲杲寒日生於東。
火維地荒足妖怪，天假神柄專其雄。
噴雲泄霧藏半腹，雖有絕頂誰能窮。
我來正逢秋雨節，陰氣晦昧無清風。
潛心默禱若有應，豈非正直能感通。
須臾靜掃衆峯出，仰見突兀撐青空。
紫蓋連延接天柱，石廩騰擲堆祝融。
森然魄動下馬拜，松柏一逕趨靈宮。
粉牆丹柱動光彩，鬼物圖畫填青紅。
升階傴僂薦脯酒，欲以菲薄明其衷。
廟令老人識神意，睢盱偵伺能鞠躬。
手持桮珓導我擲，雲此最吉餘難同。
竄逐蠻荒幸不死，衣食纔足甘長終。
侯王將相望久絕，神縱欲福難爲功。
夜投佛寺上高閣，星月掩暎雲朣朧。
猿鳴鐘動不知曙，杲杲寒日生於東。
Philological Direct Translation
The sacrificial ranks of the Five Peaks match the Three Ducal Ministers, the four quarters ring their garrisons with Mount Song in the center.
The fire quarter's land is desolate, abounding in monsters, Heaven lends its divine authority to monopolize its heroism.
Spouting clouds and leaking mist, they hide their middle bellies, though there are ultimate peaks, who can exhaust them?
I come just encountering the autumn rain season, the yin vapor is murky and dim without a clear breeze.
Concentrating my heart and silently praying as if there is a response, is it not that the upright can commune?
In a moment, quietly swept clean, the multitude of peaks emerges, looking up I see them abruptly propping up the azure void.
Purple Lid and Continuous Ranges connect to the Heavenly Pillar, Stone Granaries leap and toss, piling up at Zhurong.
Solemnly my soul is shaken, I dismount and bow, through a path of pines and cypresses I hurry to the numinous palace.
White-plastered walls and vermilion pillars stir with brilliant colors, ghostly creatures and painted figures fill blue and red.
Ascending the steps, stooping, I present dried meat and wine, wishing with these meager offerings to clarify my inner feelings.
The temple warden, an old man, knows the divine intent, peering and watching, he is able to bow low.
Holding in his hands the divination blocks, he guides me to cast them, saying this is the most auspicious, the rest cannot match.
Banished to the southern wilderness, fortunately not dying, with clothes and food barely sufficient, I am willing to end my days thus.
Expectations of marquises, kings, generals, and ministers have long been cut off, even if the spirits wish to bless me, it is hard to achieve merits.
By night I enter the Buddhist monastery, ascending the high pavilion, stars and moons obscure and reflect among misty, dim clouds.
A gibbon cries, the bell tolls, unaware of dawn, the bright, cold sun is born in the east.
The fire quarter's land is desolate, abounding in monsters, Heaven lends its divine authority to monopolize its heroism.
Spouting clouds and leaking mist, they hide their middle bellies, though there are ultimate peaks, who can exhaust them?
I come just encountering the autumn rain season, the yin vapor is murky and dim without a clear breeze.
Concentrating my heart and silently praying as if there is a response, is it not that the upright can commune?
In a moment, quietly swept clean, the multitude of peaks emerges, looking up I see them abruptly propping up the azure void.
Purple Lid and Continuous Ranges connect to the Heavenly Pillar, Stone Granaries leap and toss, piling up at Zhurong.
Solemnly my soul is shaken, I dismount and bow, through a path of pines and cypresses I hurry to the numinous palace.
White-plastered walls and vermilion pillars stir with brilliant colors, ghostly creatures and painted figures fill blue and red.
Ascending the steps, stooping, I present dried meat and wine, wishing with these meager offerings to clarify my inner feelings.
The temple warden, an old man, knows the divine intent, peering and watching, he is able to bow low.
Holding in his hands the divination blocks, he guides me to cast them, saying this is the most auspicious, the rest cannot match.
Banished to the southern wilderness, fortunately not dying, with clothes and food barely sufficient, I am willing to end my days thus.
Expectations of marquises, kings, generals, and ministers have long been cut off, even if the spirits wish to bless me, it is hard to achieve merits.
By night I enter the Buddhist monastery, ascending the high pavilion, stars and moons obscure and reflect among misty, dim clouds.
A gibbon cries, the bell tolls, unaware of dawn, the bright, cold sun is born in the east.