Since we parted, the moon has waxed and waned many times.
Though close as brothers, we dwell apart, of different names.
The returning sail hovered, hesitant to depart.
Peace is not enough; I long for letters borne by paired carps.
A thousand miles apart, how many letters in two years?
Well I know your thoughts, your memory of me remains strong.
When you visited Pishe, I was detained in Nanxu.
Stars cleverly avoid each other, yet hope may still inspire.
A knock at the door—it is indeed you, not a stranger.
After such long separation, here you are without delay.
I wish to hold your sleeve, to tap your store of ten thousand scrolls.
Your family's elder Zong, whose three fu surpassed Xiangru.
Your son outshines the blue, like streams returning to the sea.
At court, facing great questions, a hundred treasures briefly shown.
Some aid the ruler's robe, none seek to tug the gown like Xin.
Looking down on Han's great men, some starve while others have plenty.
Setting it aside, not for me, I'd discard the grinding stone.
Southern Terrace, Western Office—high posts left empty for whom?
No need for scholar's pond; your words are jade pendants, ringing clear.
Among usual friends, parting wine often tugs the sleeve.
One like you commands respect, and we share our hometown too.
Seeking wholeness, awaiting mending; crossing peril, aided by a quiet carriage.
The world is full of fair-weather friends, a sight that makes one sigh.
They look at me as if defiled; what reliance is there in you?
I pray our bond of honor remains, regardless of passing days.
Promise a ten-day sojourn, to discuss mysteries from start to end.
For hosting, I have barefoot servants; for copying poems, I warn the clerk.
If only a square-wheeled carriage could, in one night, bring your cart to life.