赋玉岩

Have you not seen the five willows by the gate of Magistrate Tao?

He resigned his post for a mere five bushels of rice, refusing to bow.

Returning home, he found joy on the three paths, a delight so rare,

With lute and books, who else could taste such pleasure beyond compare?

Have you not seen the hermit Lin, who by West Lake made his abode?

Where lake and hills present a view unmatched on any earthly road.

To this day, his lines on sparse shadows slanting still resound,

As he and the plum blossoms share a pure and slender frame renowned.

Since ancient times, all recluses have been of this noble kind,

Their integrity pure and whole, from beginning to end aligned.

I sigh thrice for the ancient ethos, now beyond recall,

Yet fortunate to have the Jade Rock man, who stands above them all.

For over twenty years, he nurtured a profound and vast spirit deep,

Weary of court and market life, into the woods and hills to leap.

In action or retreat, he never strayed from the Dao's true way,

But who knew the inch of heart that grieved for the world's dismay?

Ashamed am I, in dust and grime of official ink and red,

Wishing I could wash in the clear stream before the cliff instead.

I envision the fragrant orchids indoors, their scent so fine,

Like the lingering music from a pure temple, a beauty divine.

I hear that in those years, he was gifted books by the Supervisor's hand,

But Master Pu's view was merely coarse, unable to understand.

To know fate and righteousness is our Confucian scholars' quest,

I wish to learn and roam with Zhou, Shao, and Su, among the best.