I dreamed of climbing the Milky Way at night,
Where stars were scattered all around, shining bright.
Their ranks I could somewhat discern,
Arrayed in rivalry, their radiance they'd burn.
From the Winnowing Fan past Herdboy and Weaving Maid,
Straight to the Dipper, in grandeur displayed.
Since I'd awakened to the heavens high,
All things should be clear beneath this sky.
Among them was a divine official, stern,
Eyes glaring like lightning, making me learn.
In dark robes astride a black dragon he rode,
Adorned with crystal pendants, his person showed.
Turtle and serpent, coiled in cosmic tie,
Formed the very order of earth and sky.
My heart was filled with fear and wonder,
I bowed twice, lest disaster pull me under.
I truly dwell in the mortal land below,
Never thought to this realm I'd go.
Since granted an audience with your might,
I dare to ask, though it may not be right:
If the ox has strength, why fear the cart's weight?
If the maid is skilled, why fear to sew straight?
If the Dipper has a handle, why fear to ladle wine?
With tongue rolled up, what use to speak of the divine?
Why must the Winnowing Fan in the east,
Always sift and toss the chaff, never ceased?
Only knowing these five, I pray,
Do not forget what I say.
The divine official called me near,
Told me there was nothing to fear.
The ways of heaven are not for you to know,
Why trouble to question what's always so?
It's not that I'd spare to tell you all,
But for you, it might bode a fall.
As for doubts in the human sphere,
Dare you ask your king, drawing near?
I kowtowed, thanking the divine,
My words, I said, were out of line.
In a cold sweat I suddenly awoke,
The dying lamp in the empty hall still spoke.