The stone ape, beside himself with joy, drew back in haste and made for the outside; he shut his eyes again, crouched down, and leapt clear of the water.

石猿 ('stone ape') varies the more frequent 石猴. 喜不自勝 ('unable to contain his joy') reads 勝 as shèng ('to bear, to withstand'), not shēng, and 不 takes its bú sandhi before the falling tone of 自. 復 (fù) is 'again,' echoing the leap that first brought him in.

He gave two loud chuckles and cried: 'What luck! What luck!'

打了兩個呵呵 is 'gave two guffaws' (呵呵 hē hē, hearty laughter). 造化 (zào huà) is 'good fortune, luck' — literally the work of creation — a favourite exclamation of the monkey's throughout the book.

The monkeys crowded round him, asking: 'What's it like inside? How deep is the water?'

圍住 (wéi zhù) is 'to surround, to crowd round.' 怎麼樣 (zěn me yàng, 麼 the neutral me) is colloquial 'how is it? / what's it like?' Their practical first questions keep the comedy grounded.

The stone monkey said: 'No water! No water! It turns out there's an iron-plate bridge, and on the far side of it a whole establishment made ready by Heaven and Earth.'

天造地設 ('made by Heaven, set out by Earth') means perfectly formed by nature. 家當 takes 當 as dàng ('property, an establishment, household goods'), not dāng — a homely word that casts the grotto as a ready-made estate.

The monkeys said: 'How can you tell it's an establishment?'

怎見得 (zěn jiàn de, 得 a neutral particle) is 'how can one tell? / what makes you say so?' Their scepticism prompts the detailed inventory that follows.

The stone monkey said with a laugh: 'This stream of water rushes through beneath the stone bridge and hangs down inverted to curtain the doorway.'

沖貫 (chōng guàn) is 'to rush through and pierce'; 倒掛 takes 倒 as dào ('inverted, hanging down'), not dǎo. The falling sheet of water 'screens the doorway' (遮閉門戶) — the image behind the name 水簾洞.

'By the bridge are flowers and trees, and there stands a house of stone.'

石房 ('a house of stone') restates in plain speech what the 賦 of the previous passage rendered ornately.

'Within the house are a stone recess, a stone stove, stone bowls, a stone basin, a stone bed, and stone benches.'

The inventory — 石窩 (a stone nook or recess, 窩 wō), stove, bowls, basin, bed, benches — is the prose counterpart to the verse furnishings of the previous passage, the monkey ticking off a homestead's contents.

'And in the middle, on a stone tablet, is carved: “Blessed Land of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit; Grotto-Heaven of the Water-Curtain Cave.”'

鐫著 ('carved with,' 鐫 juān, 著 the neutral aspect-marker zhe). Within the speech the inscription is set off in single corner brackets: 花果山福地，水簾洞洞天 — 福地 ('blessed land') and 洞天 ('grotto-heaven'), the terms of Daoist sacred geography seen on the tablet itself.

'It is truly a place for us to settle. Inside it is roomy too, big enough to hold a thousand of us, old and young.'

安身之處 ('a place to settle, to make a home'; 處 the noun chù). 千百口 uses 口 as the measure word for persons ('mouths'); 老小 is 'old and young, the whole company.'

'Let us all move in and live there — that way we'll be spared the open sky's weather. In here:'

省得 (shěng de, 省 shěng) is 'so as to spare oneself, to avoid having to.' 受老天之氣 — literally 'suffer Old Heaven's air' — means to be at the mercy of the weather. 這裡邊 ('in here') cues the verse that follows.

When the wind blows, there's a place to hide; when the rain falls, a good place to keep dry.

The eight-line verse extols the cave as a perfect shelter. 刮風 (guā fēng, 'when the wind blows'; 刮 = 颳) and 有處躲 ('there is a place to hide,' 處 here the noun chù, 'a place') open the catalogue; 躲 (duǒ) is 'to shelter.'

Of frost and snow not the least fear; the thunder's voice forever unheard.

全無懼 ('not the least fear') and 永不聞 ('never heard') stress the grotto's seclusion from frost, snow, and thunder; 不 keeps its bù tone before 聞. The lines quietly recall the earlier 山中無甲子 — a refuge outside the reach of weather as that was outside the reach of time.

Mist and rosy cloud forever shining; auspicious vapours steaming up each day.

祥瑞 (xiáng ruì) are 'auspicious omens, lucky signs.' 蒸熏 (zhēng xūn, 熏 = 燻) is 'to steam and waft up' — the blessed vapours of the place rising continually, the mark of a true 福地.

Pine and bamboo year by year in their prime; rare flowers fresh anew with every day.

秀 (xiù) here is 'to flourish, to be at one's finest.' 日日新 ('fresh anew day by day') faintly echoes the classical motto 苟日新，日日新，又日新 of the Daxue (《大學》), though here it is simply the unfading freshness of a paradise.

Hearing this, the monkeys were delighted, every one, and said: 'You go on first and lead us in — in, in!'

你還先走 ('you go on ahead first') uses 還 (hái) loosely as 'go on and…'. The repeated 進去，進去 ('in, in!') catches the troop's eager, childlike clamour.

The stone monkey shut his eyes again, crouched, and sprang inward with a single leap, calling: 'Follow me in, all of you — come in!'

往裡一跳 ('with one leap inward,' 一 in its yí sandhi before 跳). The monkey repeats his eyes-shut crouch-and-spring a third time — the gesture has become his signature.

Of the monkeys, the bold ones all jumped straight in;

膽大的 ('the bold ones') leap straight in. The antithesis with the timid ones follows.

the timid ones craned their necks and drew them back, scratching their ears and rubbing their cheeks, shrieking aloud; after a deal of fuss, they too all went in.

伸頭縮頸 ('craning and shrinking their necks') and 抓耳撓腮 ('scratching ears and rubbing cheeks'; 撓 náo, 腮 sāi) are stock four-character phrases for nervous fidgeting — the very picture of timid monkeys. 纏一會 (chán yí huì) is 'after dithering a while' (纏 chán, to fuss and delay).

Once across the bridgehead, every one of them snatched at the basins and bowls, seized the stoves and beds, hauling this here and shifting that there,

搶盆奪碗，佔灶爭床 ('snatching basins and bowls, seizing stoves and beds') is a brisk parallel of greedy commotion — 搶／奪／佔／爭 all verbs of grabbing. The grand 賦 of the grotto gives way at once to slapstick.

for such is the monkey's restless nature — never a moment's quiet — and they left off only when worn out and weary.

猴性頑劣 ('the monkey's mischievous nature'; 頑 wán, 劣 liè) names the trait the whole novel turns on. 再無一個寧時 ('never a moment's quiet'; 寧 here níng, 'peaceful'), and they stop only when 力倦神疲, 'worn out in strength and spirit' — the restlessness that is the comic, and allegorical, keynote of the 心猿.