When I left my thatched hut in the past,
Barbarians swarmed Chengdu, vast.
Now I return to my thatched hut,
Chengdu happens to be calm, but—
Let me tell of the turmoil's start,
Changes occurred in a breath, apart.
A great general went to court on call,
Petty men then plotted to enthrall.
At midnight, a white horse they slew,
Swearing oaths, their bold spirit grew.
Westward they took troops from Qiongnan,
North, cut off Jian'ge's strategic span.
A few dozen commoners in dress,
Also held cities to possess.
Their forces couldn't both be great,
Then heard Han and Tibetan separate.
Western soldiers turned their spears,
Traitorous ministers killed peers.
Who knew disaster at one's side,
Would reach those owl-and-lynx-like guide?
Righteous men all felt grief and rage,
Laws and order crossed every stage.
One state had three lords in truth,
Myriad people were like fish, forsooth.
Echoing each other, they wielded power,
Who'd distinguish innocent from sour?
Before eyes, cangues and fetters displayed,
Behind backs, flutes and pipes were played.
Chatting and laughing, they carried out slaughter,
Blood splashed filling the long street's quarter.
To this day, where axes were used,
Wind and rain hear cries, confused.
Ghostly concubines and ghostly steeds,
Their sorrowful looks served your pleasure's needs.
The nation's laws and decrees exist,
This scene is enough to make one gasp.
Humble me had to flee and run,
For three years gazed toward Eastern Wu, undone.
Bow and arrows darken river and sea,
Hard to roam the Five Lakes, carefree.
I couldn't bear to abandon this place,
Came back to clear thorns, with grace.
Entering the gate, four pines still stand,
Walking on clogs, ten thousand bamboos sparse on land.
The old dog rejoices at my return,
Hovering low, into my robe's hem to yearn.
Neighbors rejoice at my return,
Buying wine, carrying gourds in turn.
High officials rejoice at my coming,
Sending riders to ask what's becoming.
The city walls rejoice at my coming,
Guests crowd the village, overwhelming.
The world is not yet at peace,
Strong men surpass rotten scholars, at least.
Drifting in the midst of wind and dust,
Where to place this old man, a must?
At this time, I see myself a wart,
Luckily, my marrow is not yet short.
Eating and drinking, ashamed of my remaining life,
Eating ferns, I dare not take more, in strife.