The writings of Li and Du remain,
Their radiance shines ten thousand feet long.
Ignorant fools, unaware of their folly,
Why use old slanders to do them wrong?
Ants trying to shake a giant tree—
Laughable, overestimating their might all along.
I, born after them,
Crane my neck to gaze afar, strong.
At night I often dream of them,
Daytime thoughts, however, grow faint and wan.
Merely seeing the marks of axe and chisel,
Not witnessing the voyage of flood control's plan.
Imagine when they wielded their hands—
Huge blades grinding against the sky, so grand.
Cliffs split and crumbled wide open,
Heaven and earth shook with thunder's band.
Only these two masters
Lived mostly in desolation, barren land.
The Emperor desired long chants and songs,
So made them rise and then fall, as planned.
Clipped wings, sent into a cage,
To watch a hundred birds soar, unmanned.
In their lifetimes, thousands of works,
Golden inscriptions, jade pendants, so grand.
Immortal officials ordered the Six Ding gods,
To fetch them with thunder and lightning, as planned.
What remains in the mortal world
Is but a hair's tip from Mount Tai, so bland.
I wish to grow two wings,
To chase them beyond the eight wilds, unmanned.
With sincere focus, suddenly connected,
A hundred wonders enter my heart's strand.
Reaching out to pull the whale's tooth,
Raising a ladle to drink celestial dew, so grand.
Soaring across the vast expanse,
Not needing the Weaving Maid's robe, unmanned.
Turning to speak to my friend on earth:
'Don't be too busy with worldly plans, unmanned.
I beg you for your rainbow sash,
To soar high with me, matching wing to wing, as planned.'