Our emperor continues ancestral glory,
The world is peaceful once again.
Edicts go out to all commanderies and states,
Yearly tribute of local talents.
In winter of Yuanhe's fifth year,
Lord Fang governed the Eastern Capital.
The Registrar advised his lordship,
"This month their names should be listed."
Then twenty counties were selected,
Examiners obtained outstanding scholars.
The crowd of scholars, confident in their gifts,
Congratulated each other on the fine selection.
Angrily they shook their feathered wings,
Raised their voices with resonant sounds.
This capital, since the Duke of Zhou,
Has carried on a fame for letters.
Unless one is absolutely exceptional,
It's hard to startle eyes and ears.
Now, encountering such awe and pressure,
They cannot utter a sound or cry.
I, a humble man, unworthily a county magistrate,
Ashamed and trembling, find it hard to face them.
I only seek to write essays,
Dare not be jealous or contend.
Returning home, I instruct wife and children,
Prepare these fried and roasted dishes.
Persimmons red, grapes purple,
Meats and fruits arrayed on stands.
Fragrant tea from Shu's gates,
Fine wine, strong and clear.
How can this suffice for a joyful feast?
I merely hope to show my sincerity.
Yesterday I heard the edict came down,
Lord Quan became the nation's pillar.
Literati obtain their proper posts,
The way of letters should greatly flourish.
A gloomy wind churns the short daylight,
Cold rain, dreary and unceasing.
Take care! Admonish your drivers and steeds,
Family and state await your glory.