A virtue met with wind and cloud, a thousand autumns' sea and mountain soul.
Within, the measure of the heavens; without, the jade-like form stands whole.
His character as from three ancient reigns, his writings like the Six Classics' scroll.
Fine plans adjusted medicine and stone, great hopes that shook the thunder's roll.
Two rivers coil a mirror bright, three peaks lift up a screen of grace.
Heaven's heart unveiled the hero's light, the world's path turned to ordered space.
At Caishi, truce was urgently made; as counselor, he reined his steed to stay.
In boat, he grasped Jin's finger to aid; on roof, he raised Qin's tile to display.
The emperor's seat from worry turned to cheer; the people, drunk, awoke to clarity.
The river's voice sings clear and near; the painting stands in dignity.
To Shu sped edicts of command; at Hangu Pass, the gates swung wide.
Like Xiwen first meeting Lü, or Pingzhong meeting Ding by his side.
Straight north, the smoke of war did cease; dwelling east, the rain fell without end.
Wilds greened with Pei Ling's gentle lease; bamboos for Wu Gong's grace did bend.
The universe leaned to his noble air; the court delayed its rites of law.
Three borders oft he held command with care; seven offices moved halls he saw.
Firm as a cart on double track, bright as a blade fresh from the whet.
Affairs dissolved like snow in hot broth's pack; things turned like vases in hand set.
Fine timber filled the court with might; sweet orchids spread their fragrance far.
Rich chests held lacquer, chestnuts bright; music cages held ginseng's star.
The recluse need not mourn the owl's flight; the learned know the weasel's art.
Pouring his heart, affection tight; conversing, steps with grace depart.
Cliffs and valleys hold many empty tents; rivers and lakes lack fishing gear.
Yao Chong's resourceful confidence; Zhuge Liang's intent, sincere and clear.
Elegant air spanned Huo's high chain; vast grace overflowed Ying's wide stream.
By virtue's power, tigers tamed remain; by Dao's force, locusts ceased their scream.
Beacon fires chilled frontier towers; mulberry and hemp hid distant fields.
Farmers thrived, oxen in happy hours; soldiers strong, horses with gleaming shields.
Wild goose marshes let hearts expand; dragon sands lent ears to hear the sound.
Dispatch bags stopped holding feather's brand; silk-gate bells rang with gentle round.
Zhou's granaries still held much grain; Yao's steps again produced auspicious fern.
Long poplars waste by royal domain; thick grass filled empty prison's turn.
Suddenly turned to twin-forest fire; soon flowed the five-zhang star's bright light.
Reborn, he roamed the Buddha's spire; in guard, he stood in heaven's height.
The royal tomb faced Luoyang's court; the king's troops crossed the Jing River's ford.
Though Xiao He guarded Shu's report, Han Xin had not passed the mountain's board.
The crane perched new on marble stone; the whale returned to old purple sea.
The moon shines bright, alone, alone; the wind blows far, cool, cool and free.
In early years, he won acclaim; for long, he served in many roles.
Meals passed on tiny boats' frame; mats spat on bamboo groves' poles.
Carved and polished, joined jade's throng; blended and made, five breams' song.
Since grief and decline came along, who does not think of loneliness strong?
The road winds long, obstructed, slow; news falls into the silent deep.
Mouth agape, in silent woe; head nodding, vigilance to keep.
Hair white, heart follows age's flight; lamp blue, eyes never close in night.
There's sound that calls from Jingluo's height; no way to pull the carriage's might.
The wise mind thinks of elder's grace; insignia spread in courtly space.
Cloud Terrace first praised Deng Yu's face; Smoke Pavilion honored Fang Xuanling's place.
Not yet to join Wen's praise in line; why need a solid stele's sign?
Grandsons have steed's bone, fine and true; sons all have phoenix feather's hue.
Though life and death hold no regret, the mourning glory hard to hear.
Once clouds parted Han, and yet twice seen the water flood the mere.
Flying dreams, wind-tossed willow down; floating life, waves roll the duckweed brown.
Western dust dims the sinking sun; twin lights of tears gleam, one by one.