Last year in Nanlanling, the official river had no flowing ice;
For long no dark clouds were seen, for miles the blazing sun would rise.
The governor prayed for the people, bowing a hundred times with pious care;
Suddenly a cool gust stirred, and a sudden rain rushed everywhere.
The parched sprouts gained vitality, the common folk escaped cold and hunger's plight;
The response was instantaneous—alas, men themselves do not act right.
I wish to compose words of praise, to leave for ages like Cao's rule so fair,
But deeply fear bystanders who, relying on grounds, set right and wrong there.
They say instead the land is high, the water spreads to limbs all four;
Even if rain falls by the foot, it stands but for a moment, no more.
This year after Grain in Ear, rain fell fine as silk thread;
Farmers bought the five omens, each inch-wave into ripples spread.
My ears once heard such tales, I take my brush to note this little rhyme;
And word spreads that Lianhu Lake breached, a vast flood north and south in grime.
It seeped to neighboring towns, plains and marshes lost their proper line;
In mid-autumn the moon shone bright, the clear dry weather seemed quite fine.
Deep valleys echoed earth's sounds, tall pines could hardly stand the test;
Torrential flow lasted three days, everywhere the same words expressed.
Nature's work holds deepest truth, shallow eyes should not probe like a gourd;
Tiny insects, pitiful lives, in short clothes to water-chestnut ford.
Winter's cold and summer's heat, in normal times what complaints arise?
Once disaster shows its sign, turn inward, deep reflection wise.
Retreat an inch, hope to gain a foot, a peck and pint seek tiny gain;
Plenty and hardship unforeseen, human feelings breed doubt's stain.
Now glad the grain stacks like a comb, again talk of crops without good ear;
Thus causing yin and yang to shift,难免 flood and drought appear.
Content with poverty, not envying wealth, seeking surplus turns to loss;
Don't you know what Confucius said? Three years accumulate bit and dross.
One husk with two grains of rice still beats chaff and bran's coarse fare.
Farmers mostly keep their place, rich families should be calm and fair.