The primal essence nurtures all things, vast and grand;
Among feathered tribes, how boundless and wide they stand.
Some deem the owl an omen of ill fate and dread,
While others hail the phoenix as auspicious, instead.
The phoenix seldom shows its glorious, radiant hue;
Its five-hued splendor remains unseen by me and you.
I was born in the land of Zou and Lu, so refined,
A region whose customs are distant from my own mind.
The turtledove follows the nursing swallow's flight,
Day and night nesting on my beam, a familiar sight.
Fluttering among sparrows and common birds they blend,
Piercing through my roof, a habit they oftentimes send.
Since I began my official career, it's been five years,
Living in the imperial capital, amidst cheers.
I served in the Chengyang Palace, on duty straight,
Attending feasts at Weiyang Hall, early and late.
In Shanglin Park, I heard orioles' songs, sweet and clear,
Their clever tongues like reed pipes, delightful to hear.
The owl's name I knew, but its presence I'd never found,
Nor had I seen or heard its ominous, dreary sound.
In recent years, exiled to Mount Shang, I felt the pain,
Hearing its cry, a chill of sorrow began to reign.
Now, from the inner court, I'm banished once again,
Punished to Yongyang, to endure hardship and strain.
Who would have thought that you, ominous bird, would nest
High on the city wall, where you make your dark quest?
As years advance, my sleep grows ever more slight;
Autumn ends, the night watch seems endlessly long.
Your ceaseless cries persist throughout the weary night,
Each note tinged with frost, a melancholy song.
My wife weeps softly by my side, in deep despair,
My young child wails beside me, adding to my care.
My heart is not that of a sage, enlightened and free;
How can I avoid this restless anxiety?
Though human life may span a hundred years at most,
It flashes by like sparks from stone, a fleeting ghost.
Within it, rise and fall, success and failure blend,
Dark and obscure, hard for oneself to comprehend.
I admire Gao and Kui, in their lofty crown,
Who served in Emperor Shun's hall with great renown.
The music of Xiaoshao played nine times, profound,
From Danxue, phoenixes came with a graceful sound.
I also love Hong and San, who with all their might
Served King Wen of Zhou, aiding his rule so bright.
The yuè zhuó phoenix sang on Mount Qi, clear and grand,
Many scholars thrived, and Zhou's Dao spread through the land.
Alas, for Han's Jia Yi, talented and young,
Exiled to southern wilds, where sorrows were sung.
Thus he wrote the "Owl Fu," profound and wise,
Expounding on fortune's turn, with insightful eyes.
Lord Xun and Lord Ye, both banished to the same place,
Heard this bird at midnight, tears streaming down each face.
But Lord Li raised his wine cup, with a decree,
Declaring this sound not an ill omen to see.
If any guest failed to hear, or showed disdain,
He'd be fined a giant cup, to drink again.
Thus, the ominous bird's cry lost its sting and dread,
And listening brought no harm to heart or head.
When Duke Zanhuang was exiled to Yuanzhou's domain,
He cherished the owl's meaning, wisdom to retain.
So I know sages of old, wise as they might be,
Could not escape life's sorrow and misery.
How much more I, unworthy, who with little grace
Presumed to serve at court, holding a lofty place.
To serve my country, I followed the upright way;
For self-preservation, I failed to guard, I'd say.
Twice demoted in four years, my hair now turns gray;
Though I hold a fifth-rank post, it wears me away.
Tempered steel loses its edge through repeated blows;
My spirit's strength dwindles as hardship grows.
When shall I lay aside my official seal and might,
Return to fields, and leave behind rich food's delight?
Teach my son to toil hard at plowing and sowing,
Share coarse fare with my wife, simple living knowing.
The phoenix's coming brings me no joy or cheer,
The owl's gathering holds for me no dread or fear.
Leisurely I'll live out the years Heaven has given,
Forgetting self and world, as if in heaven.