My friend, Master Hou, styled Shuqi,
Called me to take a rod and fish in Warm Water.
At dawn, I whipped my horse out the capital gate,
All day walking through brambles and thorns.
Warm Water, faint and vague, stops then flows again,
Deep as a rut, wide enough for an axle.
Frogs jump over, sparrows bathe here,
Even if there are fish, not worth the pursuit.
For Master Hou, I couldn't refuse,
Set the float, split bait, cast into the muddy dregs.
From late afternoon I sat firm till dusk,
Hands weary, eyes tired, just as I was about to rise.
A brief stir then stillness, no hope to be had,
Like a shrimp crawling, a leech crossing, all seemed doubtful.
Lifting the rod, pulling the line, suddenly a catch—
One inch long, barely showing scales and fin.
That day, Master Hou and I, Han Yu,
After a long while, sighed, looked at each other in sorrow.
My endeavors now are all like this,
This event is just right to serve as my guide.
Half a lifetime hurriedly pursuing examinations,
Gaining one name only as youthful looks fade.
The ways of the world, how could I not see them?
Toiling in vain, what does it achieve in the end?
I should take my wife and children by the hand,
Head south to Ji and Ying, with no thought of return.
Shuqi, you are now full of vigor,
My words are most earnest, do not laugh at them.
If you wish to fish, you must go far away,
Would a great fish ever dwell in a muddy swamp?