How lofty stands Mount Ji, grand and high,
The Zhe River's waters surge and flow.
A thousand miles of wilds stretch far and nigh,
The lands where Goujian once laid plans long ago.
In spring rain, mulberry and cudrania turn green;
Autumn winds bring fragrance of rice, sweet and clean.
Every village sets traps for crabs in the stream;
Everywhere fish weirs across waters gleam.
On slopes, ten thousand ducks are set free to roam;
Gardens are covered with ginger plots, a fertile home.
The sound of pestles pounds like thunder, loud and deep;
Private debts surpass the official granaries' keep.
At Yu's Temple, they vie to offer sacrifice;
At Orchid Pavilion, shared cups float, a poetic device.
Empty lanes watch dragon boats race with might;
Whole villages gather to see operas, a delightful sight.
In Xiangli, bayberries ripen, a crimson hue;
Picking them day and night, busy hands pursue.
Green baskets fill the mountain paths, a vibrant scene;
Not to be outdone by litchi baskets, ever so keen.
Swiftly they're sent to noble houses, a starry race;
Spare no gold in payment, a lavish embrace.
Water shield from Xiang Lake emerges fresh and fine;
Sellers from three villages circle, a bustling line.
What to cook it with? A perch three feet long,
Fresh and fragrant when first on the market it belongs.
Compared to this, what worth has cheese of sheep?
Mirror Lake gathers all waters, deep and wide,
Since Han times, no drought or locusts have ever tried.
Towers and winding balconies, layer on layer,
Glisten and float on the lake's light, bright and clear.
Boats serve as carriages, a leisurely ride;
Small parasols shade new makeup, with grace and pride.
In shallow lanes and little paths, quiet and serene,
Late at night, silk strings and reeds are heard, unseen.
I, old now, compose this poem with care,
Daring to follow ancient music, a legacy rare.
I regret no Ji Zha is here to lend an ear,
To hear this great state's customs, vast and sincere.