Gazing at the year, I worry for the farmers' toil;
For timely rain, the ministers in power must strive.
My sighs stir the Milky Way high above;
The subtle signs reveal Heaven's will to humankind.
Mist and fog gather in the winding sky;
A mighty wind whips up the water's edge.
Driving away the scorching heat, it breaks;
Sweeping and cleansing the dusty air.
Its force seems poised to overturn rivers and seas;
Its roar surpasses ghosts and gods, I deem.
Mountains and streams together burst forth in beauty;
Heaven and earth are sharply washed, fresh and clean.
All things contain the breath of life anew;
Prime harmony relies on the Great Potter's Wheel.
Deep in their caves, flood-dragons fiercely raise their horns;
In rutted puddles, minnows silently flip their scales.
Thunder and lightning—Heaven's awe extends afar;
Ploughing and mulberry—the Emperor's power spreads even.
Still, the four seasons keep their proper course;
Good fortune dwells within ten thousand homes in spring.
The government hall opens at clear dawn;
The lofty chamber welcomes honored guests in joy.
Parched hearts await the quenching of the drought;
To wash away the heat is matchless now.
The dampened plinth confirms the augury's truth;
The old historian's record by the carriage proves real.
The capital shares in this blessed moisture;
The hexagram's image lies in statecraft's weave.
When the dance ends, we see the ritual robes;
After talk, we note the scholar's folded cap.
New poems follow the Odes' noble style;
The people's songs harmonize with the masses' voice.
Light robes still feel the lingering chill, so thin;
Yet clear and mild, the air already stirs.
Bright sunlight shines upon the rising sun;
The cleared sky's hue rolls up the lofty heavens.
Earnestly I yearn for sages of the past;
Solemnly I'm glad to reach this present hour.
The Spring and Autumn Annals recorded drought with care;
This hymn sings Duke of Lu's benevolent grace.