In the capital, the year draws to its close,
My humble gate stays shut throughout the day.
For five days, court attendance I forgo;
In three bureaus, no public work holds sway.
Reading at night, I retire late to bed,
And often sleep till the sun climbs high.
Awake, I feel a chill pierce bone and flesh;
Through windows, see the jade-like blossoms fly.
Clad in my robe, I step outside to gaze—
Whirling and dancing, they fill sky and ground.
How dare I fret about my frugal life?
Rather, I hail this promise of abound.
Though monthly pay leaves little to be saved,
Morning meals are still prepared each day.
Firewood and fodder never run too short,
Wine and dishes I can still array.
A few cups to my aging parents poured;
A shared drink with my brothers, cup by cup.
Wife and children free from hunger and cold,
Gather, singing of this timely up.
Then my thoughts turn to folks north of the river,
Who pay their taxes to supply the frontier.
Carts loaded with dozens of hu’s weight,
Journey hundreds of miles, far and drear.
Weak hooves frozen, they cannot move ahead;
Ruts turned to ice, the wheels are hard to steer.
Where do they rest when night at last descends?
In desolate silence, by a barren mere.
And then I think of soldiers on the border,
Shouldering spears to fend off Tartar steeds.
On city walls, banners stand upright;
From watchtowers, beacon fires one heeds.
The stiff bow adds more strength to their pull,
But cold armor chills them to the marrow.
Where do they march on a day like this?
Forlorn, across the barren sands they go.
Reflecting on myself—what man am I?
Who steals this comfort, living safe and warm.
A parasite upon the common folk,
Yet holding a censor’s post in form.
Without a single word of honest counsel,
How can I claim to be an upright soul?
Without a phrase of judgment, praise or blame,
How can I play a historian’s role?
I till not a single acre of land,
Nor hold an arrow in my hand.
Much ashamed I lack the rich man’s art,
And wanting in plans to guard the frontier part.
In vain I chant these verses on the snow,
To thank my friends who care—this much I know.