My old house has several dozen rafters,
Damp below and broken above.
For no reason, a wild fox spirit,
Stole in as a thief in the dark night.
It stole my triple-layered felt,
And eyed it as a rare treasure.
Holding it to offer at a vermilion gate,
Saying this could please the kitchen god.
Since I lost this thing,
My will has not been the least bit dampened.
Bitter integrity withstands the year's cold,
A modest face scorns the fashions of the day.
Fate and duty guard the great bounds,
Hidden deep, still lurking in the bay.
A guest came from the north,
Specially bringing auspicious words to tell.
The old thing will be seen returned,
The former steamer never truly fell.
I smiled and said to the guest,
"Is there really such talk?"
Kong Guang sat in the grand hall,
In charge, already dim and aged.
I once faced the imperial guard,
With stern countenance enumerated his faults.
His heart could not tolerate it,
Could not help but harbor jealous hate.
Shi Xian was within the palace walls,
Wielding power, playing with dark secrets.
I again submitted memorials attacking him,
Meeting face to face would surely draw his spit.
His methods were then flourishing,
And by this he must seek revenge.
The guest then eased my mind,
"Be at ease a little, careful not to fret."
The sage lord pardons past faults,
Benevolent grace equal to heaven's canopy.
The enlightened minister loves the good kind,
Virtue's measure vast as the sea.
Slanderers' harm cannot succeed,
Not by him, the felt comes of itself.
Not long after, his words proved true,
The guest rejoiced, asking after my toil.
I urged the guest not to be glad,
For I rather mourn for these times.
A stone of rice costs thirty thousand,
In Hangzhou people die of hunger.
Enemy camps seven hundred li,
Huai people together hacked and chopped.
Cellar snow flies without lingering,
Thawing winds fan flames of heat and drought.
Tides come without fixed time,
People's homes sink in mud and flood.
The drought demon runs rampant overland,
Evil birds frequently caw and clamor.
A falling star's light shoots at men,
Rain and hail's force especially fierce.
The earth's axis seems to tumble and churn,
The heavenly patterns appear upside down.
In the past I uttered blunt words,
Daring to risk ten thousand deaths.
Court ministers mocked me as mad,
The Chancellor disliked my increasing pride.
Unfortunately, within a year's span,
Many former words have come to pass.
Now dwelling among mountains and marshes,
Daily I pray towards the azure vault.
First wish: timely rain and shine,
That fields be full of rice and glutinous grain.
Second wish: spears and shields to rest,
That borders cease patrols and watches.
Then perhaps in my remaining years,
I can tend my farm and garden myself.
Preserve this name of a wild scholar,
Comparable to the title of a free man.
Otherwise, gazing at the four quarters,
Whom to follow if I wish to go?
Though there be grain, I may not eat,
How much less have felt on which to lie.
Human character has high and low,
Talent and spirit differ sharp and dull.
Alas, I am bent very low,
Relying on you to rouse my weakness.