Five hundred years since Duke Liang passed away; his extraordinary feats and lush achievements remain in records.
I cherish loyal counsel, see it no more; reading old histories, I often sigh.
In remote mountains, an old sheriff of the Di clan; asked, he says: "He is my ancestor."
Edicts and family genealogies all shine brightly, illuminating past events as if before the eyes.
Thinking of the Duke's noble integrity, unseen now; seeing his distant descendant is truly worthy.
Moreover, this distant descendant is indeed a worthy man; his origins and aspirations—who can match?
Since coming from the Five Dynasties' decline and chaos, official caps drifted down, returning to farmlands.
In peaceful times, an edict to continue extinct lines; bestowed a minor post, somewhat honored and selected.
Heaven-endowed loyalty and filial piety then stirred fervently; repaying ancestors, serving the state, only diligence and earnestness.
In his chest already lies frost and snow; drinking ice, eating bitter herbs, sweet as fat meat.
He once said: "My rise began from field and furrow; fortunate to gain a small salary through reward and extension."
If in word, deed, or stillness there is one fault, it shames my ancestors and deceives heaven.
A trustworthy man, pure, clear, firm, and resolute; across generations, a fragrant breeze still wafts.
How for ten years he has trodden dusty paths; dark hair diminished, turned to hoary temples.
The road to blue clouds, bitter and far; who will lend a half-step to be a stairway?
If those in power at the crossroads bear him in mind, one glance could make his wings soar.
Not only would his incorruptible conduct be encouraged, but also his ancestor's virtue would shine continuously.
Alas, my thoughts stop here; moved and indignant, for you I write this piece.