My sleeves flutter as I leave, who can stop me?
The lantern's flickering light is obscured, then shines again.
I take the path west of the grassy market,
And ask the way, seeking further the bamboo grove retreat.
Fragments of dreams suddenly pass Mount Junzhou,
The night watches still count the drums of Xiangyang.
Billowing clouds connect with distant peaks,
The biting north wind slants with fine rain.
Hands in sleeves, neck drawn in, can I bear the cold?
I envy so the night spent last eve in the monk's quarters.
A simple meal at Fulong, content with my lot,
The small market's residents lack meat and dried provisions.
Here Kongming once lived in seclusion,
His temple lies barely ten li away.
Looking sideways, my feet bound, I lack a visit,
Unable to raise a cup and mourn the loyal one.
Lumen and the three Xian ridges are all like this,
Which place is not blocked by accumulated gloom?
Walking on, wild scents among secluded blooms,
Facing them, no need to sigh for lack of company.
Oak woods sparse, pond waters clear,
River plums and daffodils vie in charm and grace.
Planning for late autumn to welcome winter is too early,
The flower god this year truly boasts and brags.
In the yellow hall, exchanging brushes, I chant for you,
Repeatedly judging and inscribing, do you still remember?
The horizon suddenly weaves a hemp-hanging scene,
I only hear people by their stoves talking.
Silent is the closed gate, calling brings no answer,
Can copper coins buy heavy grain?
To snatch warmth and vie for a seat, dare I contend?
I know well Chu customs slight the wayfarer.
Local winds and human feelings are good at the pipe's end,
Not like Yang'e where we always meet with strife.
The one who offers drink is also a white-haired elder,
The one bound in hemp is a dark-skirted maid.
Pushing the pillow, often urged by the wild cock's crow,
Taking the whip, I move with the cold wild geese.
East village, west hamlet, no dry ground,
Up the hill, down the hill, mud splashes the thighs.
Servants bearing palanquins rise and stiffen,
Ascending and halting for days, I feel ashamed before you.
Vast and desolate, strange the absence of human traces,
In disarray, suddenly startled by dancing snowflakes.
Stirring floss, spreading salt—doubt transformation,
Cold valleys, covering mountains—too much mockery.
Pervading the six directions, dazzling bright and dim,
Dreaming mercury, between two realms, confused looking up and down.
Mountains and rivers set each other off, cleverly adorned and carved,
Groves and marshes dappled, almost like woven brocade.
Deer dash headlong, birds and crows take fright,
Hunters rise and fall, setting out their nets.
Feathers caught on leg hairs, sparing no effort,
Cutting fresh game, emptying flasks, for a quick feast.
A grand spectacle in the human world, now seen for the first time,
The city's obscured view lacks such a sight.
Riding a donkey, seeking lines—truly a capable task,
I still recall the alliance leader in the poetic arena.
Wind, clouds, moon, dew overflow the silk scrolls,
Rich fragrance, fresh aroma stored in heart and lungs.
A great brush, imposing, surpassing heroes of the time,
New pieces, rolling forth, flow like Music Bureau songs.
Beating time, chanting long, the wind transmits it,
Sipping and rinsing, natural sounds contain palace and羽 tones.
Snow god and wind master, what face do they have?
Relieving his stern cold, I briefly praise and give.
Fog swept, sky cleared, in a snap of the fingers,
The Candle Dragon raises its glow upon the jade garden.
Toil and comfort, satisfaction unexpected at first,
Suddenly rising and vanishing, alas, like this.
And now regretting the two previous days,
Vainly sighing for duckweed and蓬, mourning rhinoceros and tiger.
Gucheng revisited, once a place of peace,
The magistrate preserves the past, still counting me as one.
At dusk, a knock, the door is opened for me,
A plate of reclining fat lamb, a jug of fine wine.
In future times, looking back, tracing these old traces,
Could there be no record of the year and day on fine paper?
The year rides the red snake, the moon becomes full,
After mid-month cleansing, that Renwu day.