The master, with a palace's grace,
His name is listed in the immortal's place.
In youth he gained glory and fame,
Calligraphy and writing were his aim.
Yet he speaks of returning home, a jest,
I do not oppose this playful request.
The Drunken Immortal once left this sphere,
In the mortal world, he paused his career.
Literature has been in chaotic flow,
Scholars' spirit long has ceased to grow.
You, sir, emerged not late, in truth,
Your discussions show refined proof.
A crystal vase holds spring's youthful hue,
Not a speck of dust can pass through.
Your lines are shot like arrows keen,
Every word hits the target, sharp and clean.
Beauty adds to the strange and steep,
Drunken ink in tilted strokes runs deep.
Lofty words urge old friends to stay,
Reading them, my spirit swells in play.
Profound as Han Yu's depth you read,
With cadence mixed, you cast your seed.
Like spring adorning all things bright,
Your subtle use leaves no crack in sight.
An old friend, trapped in lengthy song,
His rhythm cannot be struck wrong.
Since long I've heard of your family's name,
Where brothers shine with equal fame.
The Daoist learning grows unending,
Blessings flow, no limits bending.
Worldly glamour you cast aside,
Savoring the past, time you divide.
A broad view captures the essence true,
Like clouds that rise and rivers renew.
Filial and friendly as Lu Ji, Lu Yun,
They laugh at strife, like Cao Pi's son.
Hearing your fame, while at my meal,
Unconsciously, I drop my chopsticks with zeal.
In dreams our spirits meet with delight,
Hearts aligned, our passions ignite.
Where is Luling? I gaze afar,
Hand on brow, under evening's star.
Who knew on Xiang River's shore,
We'd clasp hands, laugh, and hats would pour?
The wonder holds no stale display,
Like old friends met along the way.
Returning home, I gaze at the beam,
Joy peaks, yet caution fills my dream.
Brothers will establish their noble line,
Wealth and honor already entwine.
But I, disliked by the world's decree,
Sunset years press on me, like mulberry tree.
Together we can forget the years,
Forgive my dullness, free from fears.
One joy is hard to grasp and hold,
Looking back, it turns to stories old.
Shut indoors, I rest and dine,
And again in my own comfort I recline.
Afar, I know you won't be surprised,
That such a guest has once been prized.