Zhaojun, heaven-gifted with beauty that could topple a city,
Why was it that the sovereign never recognized her?
Pacing, gazing at her shadow, with no plan to stay,
One morning she was sent far to marry the Xiongnu state.
The Xiongnu winds and sun darken with flying dust,
Zhaojun's peerless beauty astounds the people of that land.
The Chanyu marvels, sighing he had never seen such before,
Willingly he guards the frontier, a vassal sworn.
Since ancient times, virtue's ruin is blamed on women's beauty—
Bao Si, Da Ji, Li Ji, and Xi Shi stand accused.
Jade-Ring and Flying-Swallow, even more exquisite,
Leave a stench for a thousand years, a lamentable truth.
Mao Yanshou, skilled in painting, unmatched in ancient times,
Forcibly reversed fairness and ugliness with his brush.
Yet he made this rare beauty banished to a remote land,
Could he have served his sovereign with utter loyalty?
I hear when Zhaojun first went beyond the frontier,
The northern winds blew desolate through her robes.
She briefly used the pipa to voice her parting sorrow,
Her jade-like face in agony, a consort to the aged Hu.
The aged Hu died; in justice she should have returned,
With fervent heart longing for home, she once petitioned.
The sovereign issued an edict to follow Hu custom,
She wept bitterly, her thin fate ending in a felt tent.
Since ancient times, fair ladies have mostly met thin fates,
Just as talented men often drift in exile.
If men of talent, beneficial, are still kept distant,
What blame for fair ladies who bring no added gain?
Have you not seen? Xiao Wangzhi and Kan Meng—were they not loyal?
The sovereign, half in doubt, half in trust, in the end did not keep them.