In capital, where caps and canopies throng,
Hundreds of officials, leisure is rare and long.
Only the Academy enjoys ease and grace,
Scholars' hats find ample holiday space.
Before the腊, your flying letter came with shame,
After the rain, your carriage slow did aim.
The long road brought no word of toil or plight,
Our hearts agreed, no deceit in sight.
Three years I've sat in these barren hills,
Many sights that wonder fills.
Crane Forest lost its Master Zhao,
At Yan Gate, two Xies in mourning go.
Old friends lament our brief encounter past,
Traces fade, change holds us fast.
Alone I chant, meeting none to hear,
Silent sitting, night is ever near.
Red ink I wield on records thin,
Watch insects, drought, how crops fare in.
Whole men are like jars, small and confined,
Light taxes, yet burdens intertwined.
Your coming comforts me so much,
Lofty talks I hear, though new to touch.
Bold winds refresh my open breast,
Sweet scenes surpass sugarcane's zest.
At ease, we cast our forms aside,
Briefly lay out wine and meat, allied.
Seeking fragrance, ask of famed gardens' name,
By streams we climb pavilions, one by same.
Often praised the old man of Zhiyang,
Said he rivals Pang Gong, standing high.
In past I heard much of his fame,
Now meeting him, my wonder's aflame.
Longmen lets clear Luo River flow,
Yi River eastward joins the show.
The old capital, rich in terrain's art,
Seasonal flowers, orchid-musk impart.
Cloudy peaks invite deep entry there,
Fragrant grasses make a couch so fair.
Riding our interest, where's the end?
When shall our homeward horses bend?
A petty official fears rules' thread,
Hobbled tight, as by rein led.
Without a letter from nearby,
Limited by tens of miles, oh my.
Looking up, I blame the wild swan's flight,
Its wings won't lend to me their might.
My term will end, a date in view,
Counting fingers, autumn, summer through.