A lone cliff stretches across the heavenly border,
Towering, its length measured in fathoms' order.
Respectfully recalling the Jin Dynasty's noble recluse,
Who here once gave free rein to distant thought's use.
Facing the wind, I draw from his sublime track,
My mind as if no present or past holds back.
In those days, warring dragons fought for the throne,
The Sima clan was building its power alone.
Loyal worthies trod on perilous fate's line,
Scales and feathers caught in a secret net's design.
Fierce and blazing, the state's punishments held sway,
Glaring, they cut down the people's hope away.
Ji Kang and Lü An greased the executioner's axe,
Shan Tao and Xi Kang endured the halter's tracks.
The master, subtle and divine in his art,
His wondrous use embraced all wrongs, set apart.
Aloof, he declined welcomes and farewells' demand,
Collapsed in spirit, entrusted to dimness and unplanned.
Ritual laws, though my foes they might be,
Wisdom and calm needed no external plea.
Mournful was his visit to Guangwu's site,
Lingering, the Infantry Commandant's brew brought light.
Coming now to his native mulberry land,
From on high, I ponder his long-departed stand.
A long whistle precedes all sounds of creation,
Floating essence ascends to the Nine Heavens' station.
Returning birds curve their necks as they fly back,
Fed horses look up at the haystack.
The heart of heaven and earth on that day,
Vast and lonely, shared in sorrow's grand display.
Alas, spanning a thousand years in a sigh,
Hidden and deep, the remnant soil does lie.
By the bank, one knows right and wrong's divide,
Sacrificial vessels still vaguely by his side.
I come and lend an ear to listen here,
At the city corner, broken echoes disappear.
Owls and kites fret in the empty wood,
Foxes converse on the level plain's hood.
His lofty tone, remote, has long passed away,
His clear inscription, who now appreciates its sway?
I've heard the historian's tale relate,
At road's end, one is often filled with desolate state.
Upright men and straight reins, in any age,
Are but drifting and wandering, page by page.
Pure customs daily grow more faint and thin,
I offer these words, bidding farewell to spirit keen.