Who is Du Fu? He is likened to Sima Qian.
The Grand Historian's humble servant—what has he to do with this place?
The blind see not and pay no heed; true understanding transcends words.
Just as spring resides in flowers, must spring itself be fair or foul?
Or like the clear notes of a plucked string, is the meaning bound to the string?
Endlessly, clouds drift from the mountains; ceaselessly, waters flow through the rivers.
Clouds, waters, mountains, rivers in motion—unfathomable, how can this be?
Who knows if not he? The gentle words of Huang Tingjian.
Yet Huang's words are not gentle; they boldly break the Yan Yu's peak.
He fully inscribed the poems of Jian Gorge, not counting the 'Golden Garlic' pieces.
Secretly passed on after composing in obscurity, the night's radiance chills the candle-lit sky.
The plaque reads 'Hall of Great Elegance'; the drunken ink remains bright and fresh.
Even now, a hundred years later, this meaning is only transmitted heart to heart.
The royal descendants of the fiery Song dynasty, their obsession with transmission never cured.
Behind closed doors, they study the schools of poetry, befriending the virtuous of the Pure Society.
Lü and Han stand solemnly in the front row, fragrant wax candles burn like golden lotuses.
The three Hongs along with the two Xies, illness may accompany the lean Quan.
The method of seizing the womb and changing the bones, its subtleties are especially cherished.
The sparse and lofty tone of the Zhengshi era, finely taken to decoct unicorn horn.
There is also the old master wheelwright, who at times dances gracefully beneath the hall.