Have you not seen the Western Capital in its glorious prime?
When the emperor personally sacrificed at Fenyin to Earth, sublime.
Fasting palaces and resting quarters, offerings were laid in store.
Bells were struck, drums were sounded, feathered banners did soar.
Five reigns of Han, both talented and mighty, held their sway.
Hosted all spirits, received tribute from tribes far away.
After the feast and verse-making at Boliang Tower, grand and high,
By decree, the imperial carriage to Hedong did fly.
The Governor of Hedong personally swept the way clean,
Welcomed the supreme one, guiding the imperial carriage serene.
Five barracks lined the road with guards in grand array,
People from three regions watched, emptying homes that day.
Banners turned back, the cortege halted at the sacred ground,
Incense burned, libations poured, blessings to abound.
The golden tripod gleamed with a brilliant, radiant hue,
The spirits shone brightly, spreading glorious light anew.
Jade buried, victims presented, rites to gods complete,
Flags raised, mounted, the imperial carriage left its seat.
The bend of that Fen River was fine for a pleasure ride,
With oars of magnolia, boats of cassia, side by side.
Soft singing accompanied the painted prows afloat,
Flutes and drums mourned plaintively under autumn's cloud coat.
Joyful feasts were held, lords were granted gifts with cheer,
Every household exempted from taxes, given ox and beer.
Fame shook the heavens, music unparalleled did sound,
"Long live the emperor as the Southern Mountain" did resound.
But since the Son of Heaven toward the Qin Pass did go,
The jade carriage and golden coach returned no more, we know.
Beaded curtains and feather fans lie in lasting gloom,
The dragon's beard at Ding Lake, who can reach its plume?
A thousand years of human affairs vanish in a day,
To make the world one's home, this road finds no way.
Where now is the heroic spirit, bold and grand?
Altar grounds and palace halls are overgrown, unmanned.
Meeting an old man on the road, one heaves a sigh,
The turning of worldly affairs is beyond prophecy.
Once, facing towers, songs and dances filled the air,
Now, yellow dust gathers where thorns and briars are there.
Mountains and rivers fill the eyes, tears wet the dress,
How long can wealth, honor, and glory possess?
Do you not see, now on the Fen River's shore,
Only the autumn wild geese fly, year after year?