The river's roar shakes the myriad peaks,
Like ten thousand steeds galloping southeast.
The coiled, iron-walled city stands firm,
Its drums and horns entwined with autumn's grief.
Heaven sets these perils in the land,
Which become the scheming heroes' capital.
From whence did Ah-nu come?
The royal enterprise took root from here.
Jinling's vital breath had waned,
Yet from the tiger's maw, Yixi's legacy survived.
Secret plans in Shouyang stirred,
Awe-inspiring, celestial signs hung low.
Suddenly, the Nine Regions' tripod was cleaved,
And fell at last to a sandal-seller's son.
Since the Han's decline in Central Plains,
The sacred vessel shifted many times.
The imperial carriage is but a passing inn,
Who faults you for its gain or loss?
To rule by compliance still holds strategies,
Addiction to slaughter only brings self-ruin.
Shanyang became a guest of Yu,
Even pigs and dogs could understand.
A prisoner weighed down in Lingling,
Why doubt the mutual downfall?
When wicked deeds repeat themselves,
How can one escape the ghosts' reproach?
Annihilation came from those closest,
Too late for regret in the springs and clods.
Alas! The merit of aiding the king,
Tainted by one stench, is scorned through ages.
I climb the Yellow Crane Mountain,
Pointing and gazing, I heave sighs.
Vast and boundless within the six directions,
Looking up and down, how many rises and falls?
The years of Yao and the days of Jie,
In the end, who upholds the cosmic order?
Eastward, the clouds drift leisurely,
Westward, the wind comes soughing.
Holding wine, I call to the mountain spirit,
Listen to my poem of the Crane Forest.