The Jade Dipper Hermit returns from Lu's land,
Detouring with wine to toast the banished immortal.
In Danyang, ten days of rain hold me on stand,
I watch the flat land turn into a river's portal.
No rush, no surge, no roaring tide in sight,
Just slowly rising, stretching, veiled in dusty haze.
Huangchi's terrain lies low and broad, a plain's blight,
They built dykes, planted willows, named polder in praise.
One polder often spans hundreds of acres wide,
Farmers tie their huts along the outskirts' way.
Fine sprouts, fresh and green, exchange waves with the tide,
In a moment, vast floods become a dragon's bay.
In panic, old monks compete in prayers they send,
Moving children, pulling each other, ties they mend.
Thatched village houses float on broken stems, adrift,
Yellow currents, black vapors, steaming stench they lift.
Townsfolk carry earth to pile on ridge's crest,
Perilous as swallow nests hung before the beam.
At midnight, suddenly, a breach bursts from the west,
All swept to join the River God's flowing stream.
Some say mountain spirits harbor ghosts and sprites,
Blowing foam and waves as if boiling in the night.
Changli ordered crocodiles, allowed slaying sprite,
From ancient times to now, this truth may hold its light.
Since the One entered Kan from Heaven's central span,
Water's virtue flows, following Heaven's round plan.
Moral order disrupted, Five Elements in strife,
The lord's boat, people's water, nearly lost its life.
Divine Si dug through caves for over nine years' span,
Till now, three thousand seven hundred years have ran.
Three seasons, millet, wheat, Heaven sends no rain,
How can the common folk rely, not suffer pain?
Heaven's change, water's force, none can disobey,
People's lives depend on lord as Heaven's way.
Now our lord and ministers are Yao and Yu's peer,
Who will take the lead in storing grain, sincere?
Qu Yuan, Li and Du serve in the Water Ministry's sphere,
Calling Heaven to inscribe my long scroll, drawing near.