The eight realms of the great void are originally one,
Within them, a Daoist gazes with penetrating sight.
I ask, what manner of man is this Daoist?
His will reveals his name, Nie is his family right.
In Huating, spring intoxicates, peach and plum contend,
Their fragrance slips through blinds, breaking a sleeper's rest.
With light steps over dusty toil, she does wend,
Gardenia's twin hearts convey a secret request.
The Daoist, unmoving, is like water clear and still,
He sees through the new attire of youthful years.
She turns to her lover, yet he would her forsake at will,
In sorrow, she watches the moon, veiling her tears.
With shy, shifting grace, a hundred spring charms she shows,
But my settled heart remains, untouched by such throes.
The worldly folk, in ignorance, do not yet know,
Thus the dark register records, as the story goes.
The judge of Yizhou, from Linying, his life began,
At night, a yellow-clad officer from Liangyuan came.
Holding pale ink, hurried and pale, the spectral man,
Outside the gate, shadowy soldiers stood, a strange, grim game.
At dawn, the hall loomed vast, imposing and wide,
The Jade-Belt Divine Lord, with a lofty, stern air.
Jingguo bowed twice, called the envoy to his side,
On the desk, the clerk held a hundred-leaf paper there.
A few lines recorded a single virtuous deed:
Master Nie refused a wanton woman at night.
Since his mind held no turbid thought or base creed,
A hundred dark dusts before him, his heart stayed bright.
Alone in his room, transcending, he sat by the sill,
Before his eyes, wild blossoms drifted down in disarray.
To pledge true love, would he care for a bracelet still?
Shared joy, not like the sun-mirror, he'd not betray.
His secret actions moved the hidden spirits deep,
The thorny envoy added twelve years to his lease.
Leaving, he asked the purple-robed elder to keep:
Dark punishment in this world brings no surcease.
In the hundred-leaf ledger, order is maintained,
Loyalty and filial piety cast out, by god's decree.
What retribution for taking life is ordained?
Like mayflies, born at dawn, by dusk they cease to be.
The pitiful courtesan, treading green, cutting red,
Washed feet in jade nectar, yet was whipped with scorn.
By Lake Fangong, in autumn hues widespread,
Grandson Tunan knelt, before her image worn.
He kowtowed, gave me the tale as told above,
Wishing to present this verse, to record the cause.
I've heard the South and North Offices are close, by heaven's love,
And earth knows, heaven knows, with no hidden flaws.
Not only fine medicine purges the five organs' core,
But a precious mirror shines for a thousand miles more.
In the shadows, surely ghosts can speak their lore,
In secret places, beware the walls have ears in store.
Though students' actions may seem fine and slight,
To observe the heart's intent is profound and deep.
Well I know the Wushen Record in heaven's light,
Notes all injustices that in the mortal world creep.
East neighbor, west neighbor, none aware at all,
Yet ghosts and spirits know each detail, great and small.
Obstacles are walls, passageways are void and tall,
Only this heart is hard to hide, behind a pall.
Why is there brightness and darkness within this sphere?
Supreme conduct connects with gods, judging what's clear.
The Daoist's two eyes, free from red affliction's fear,
Discern how much is true or false, both far and near.
Zhao Hua is gone, Ma Yuan too has died,
The county hides a virtue like a noble man.
Alas, we students suffer, in life's turbulent tide,
Chasing after sights and sounds and tastes, as we ran.
Among them, greedy fiends are especially sly,
Searching, grasping, into their craving mouths they take.
Duer and Adui together mock and decry,
Laughing at officials who in filth dreams partake.
Though they say the dark allows clever evasion,
Even servants feel shame, can they bear no frustration?
Alas, the crafty Wang Jigong, in his persuasion,
Never knew how to face Qi Rui with humiliation.
I admire men of old for their simplicity and grace,
With few desires, pure and true, a lofty spirit's trace.
Vast and serene, dwelling in truth, alone in place,
In their breasts, what worldly dust could leave a trace?
Life and death, dark and light, not by design,
This heart silently joins with the divine.
Wang Chen's embroidered quilt descended the hall,
Li Yue's precious pearl in the shroud did enshrine.
If the Nine Springs could revive, I'd join them all,
Folding my knees, embracing their quiet design.