How fragrant and profuse its blooms appear,
With verdant leaves and purple stems so dear.
This plant is known as chrysanthemum, I say,
And thus I plant it in my courtyard's way.
Its nature calm and pure, no restless strife,
Its flavor sweet and fresh, enriching life.
When autumn dew brings desolation drear,
It spreads its radiant blossoms far and near.
Its hue is pure and fair, a splendid sight,
Its scent is sweet and clear, a pure delight.
Serene, refined, and spotless in its grace,
It thrives in crowds, a flourishing embrace.
Plucked timely for the feast, in season's prime,
It brings celestial harmony and peace sublime.
Its essence light, its spirit free and bright,
Clears vision like the pupil's lucid light.
Dispels decay and stagnant, turbid flow,
The wind spreads it, stagnation's overthrow.
By saints and immortals it is eaten,
To banish foul and fishy scents, unbeaten.
Long cherished, never abandoned in its use,
It will prolong your years, a healthful truce.
Alas, my life—a troubled, feeble state,
Fearing cold and hunger, by meager fate.
Where shall I end? The woods and hills I'll seek,
To build my dwelling, humble, calm, and meek.
Rich feasts and lavish spreads in halls abound,
Bear's paws and dragon sauce, with lamb renowned.
Those who possess such fare by fortune's grace,
Why should I envy them in this low place?
Only this fine chrysanthemum, I find,
Grows wild and real, with nature intertwined.
Plucked, chewed, and eaten, on the altar high,
It fills the plates, ascending to the sky.
Easy to seek, in this world's common ground,
No strife or contest for it can be found.
I have a lasting ailment, deep and sore,
Clogged and confused, my spirit troubled more.
My joints are stiff, my sinews locked in pain,
My vital breath blocked, struggling in vain.
Weary, unable to support my frame,
Outside obstructed, inside parched and lame.
Like scabies thriving, worms in hidden lair,
Feeding on blooms in autumn, leaves in spring air.
Gathering new, discarding old with care,
Your merit aids me, a borrowed strength to bear.
May it soothe my body, make my bones sound,
Produce harmony, remove ills all around.
Joy overflowing, blissful and serene,
Returning blooms to dark, strength replacing lean.
Forgetting life, transcending worldly ties,
Deep hidden, far withdrawn, where spirit flies.
Riding clouds and mist, in chariot I soar,
Breathing the sun's essence, forevermore.
Calling friend Peng Xian, in ancient lore,
Riding the wind, to distant skies explore.
Ah, this chrysanthemum, my hope and plea,
In you, my trust and longing rest on thee.