In ancient times there was a kind of lingzhi, which can sway by itself without wind, Its stem as thick as a finger, and its leaves resembles that of the amaranth, Its roots with the shape of a funnel, They were scattered around, far from each other, It grows in high mountains, If you eat it, you will become immortal.
Hesitate to play with the lingzhi plant, Stopped to reach for the osmanthus, While the osmanthus seemed domineering, the lingzhi was exquisite and lovely, Like a dragon then like a horse, Turning into a pavilion and then a palace, Out of nine splendors emerges the purple canopy, Six delicate flowers lead to the recluse, The immortal of the north Mount Cangshan, Swaying by itself without wind.
Hidden in deep mountains, the magical plant lingzhi grows, The place looks like a fairyland, and every step leaves a fairy track, The immortals drink tea, and travel through the mountains and waters, The melody of the fairyland is like the music of joy, The place is like the cave of the immortals beyond the human world. The pride of the osmanthus is fading, While the exquisiteness of the lingzhi reaches its best, The trace of heaven and earth, Not to be discovered by ordinary human beings, Under the roof of the grand palace, People of extraordinary talents come and go, as if beyond the mundane world, Only the swaying lingzhi, Makes you think there is wind when there is not.