In this land of Duke Xie's cultural legacy,
Mountains and rivers are like embroidered tapestry.
In the blink of an eye, all turns bleak and bare,
Can the rich views of old still be found there?
Since I came to know you, noble sir,
I've drawn again from Zhongyu's splendid air.
Your discourse, outstanding, wonderfully keen,
Your mastery of classics, rich and serene.
In youth, you studied the Six Canons deep,
Your solitary voice began to peep.
The Board of Rites missed the measure, it seems,
Your talent, hard to fit their rigid schemes.
Heaven's will perhaps has plans in store,
Our district sought you as a guest to lore.
Among the local students in their line,
You're judged as teacher-friend, by old design.
At dawn, you'd enter with tribute in hand,
At dusk, at the scholars' seat you'd take your stand.
Well I know, for far-reaching deeds one strives,
Not for quick sales in current market lives.
Many scholars now flock to your light,
Three paths converge, drawn to your insight.
And I, what heart had I at the start?
High or low, I'd follow as my part.
Serenely holding to my single way,
With books embraced, I sit through the clear day.
Sweeping away vulgar things with my broom,
Ice and snow chill my bosom, my heart's room.
Only for people of our own kind,
I'd rush barefoot, leaving shoes behind.
Who says a scholar in his humble gown,
Is less than the guard of Yanmen town?
Your love for worth, as deep as dark robes' hue,
Our shared heart, like orchid fragrance, true.
Moreover, those venerable old men,
Through late night, their fading lamp burns then.
Sincere respect and courtesy you show,
Can make the local customs thicker grow.
I pity worldly views so narrow, mean,
That sometimes scorn the scholar as unclean.
The vital breath must be preserved with care,
The greater form defended, bold and fair.
Recite this before the hundred officials high,
Build a great roof that shelters far and nigh.
You shall from here ascend to greater height,
The Confucian essence grasped in full light.
This is our culture's fortune, a blessed sign,
May kindly spirits grant their grace divine.
All my life, hearing of others' good,
Joy rises like steam from boiling food.
I write this poem to follow Lu Pan's art,
For a thousand years, long life I impart.