I am the madman of the Chu country Who sang a mad song disputing Confucius. ...Holding in my hand a staff of green jade, I have crossed, since morning at the Yellow Crane Terrace, All five Holy Mountains, without a thought of distance, According to the one constant habit of my life. Lu Mountain stands beside the Southern Dipper In clouds reaching silken like a nine-panelled screen, With its shadows in a crystal lake deepening the green water. The Golden Gate opens into two mountain-ranges. A silver stream is hanging down to three stone bridges Within sight of the mighty Tripod Falls. Ledges of cliff and winding trails lead to blue sky And a flush of cloud in the morning sun, Whence no flight of birds could be blown into Wu. ...I climb to the top. I survey the whole world. I see the long river that runs beyond return, Yellow clouds that winds have driven hundreds of miles And a snow-peak whitely circled by the swirl of a ninefold stream. And so I am singing a song of Lu Mountain, A song that is born of the breath of Lu Mountain. ...Where the Stone Mirror makes the heart's purity purer And green moss has buried the footsteps of Xie, I have eaten the immortal pellet and, rid of the world's troubles, Before the lute's third playing have achieved my element. Far away I watch the angels riding coloured clouds Toward heaven's Jade City, with hibiscus in their hands. And so, when I have traversed the nine sections of the world, I will follow Saint Luao up the Great Purity.