Tall and straight stands the tree from Yi's sunny side,
Lofty and alone, a thousand fathoms high.
Alone it holds the knot that pierces the cloud;
Solitary, it forms no grove, no crowd.
Its shadow ripples on the emerald wave;
Its colors glorify the rosy hill's pave.
Its upright stem longs for a trust to confide;
Its noble will expects a mission to bide.
The craftsman indeed casts on it a longing eye,
And carves and polishes it into a zither high.
Inlaid with jade from southern mountains' heart,
Studded with gold from Kunwu, set apart.
Coiled dragons, phoenixes show wondrous design;
Shang and Zhi notes contain tones clear and fine.
Clear tones, refined tunes move noble men's soul;
Each touch, each pluck makes them miss friends as a whole.
Zhong Ziqi has been dead for a hundred years;
Yet I recall him still through miles and tears.
Sima Xiangru's terrace should be overgrown;
Ruan Ji's curtained front stands empty, alone.
The mountain's mood, the water's heart, you don't know,
For whom I dust the case and tune the strings now?
Tuning the strings, dusting the case, with feelings deep,
Especially 'neath the bright moon o'er mountains steep.
Long River's mournful wind already sobs in pain;
The parted phoenix and crane sound more forlorn again.
Generals beyond the frontier played many a rare air;
Ji Kang in woods had melodies just and fair.
Just melodies harmonize with Feng and Ya old;
But who knows me when I try this tune to unfold?
I say my life retired lacks recommendation due,
Never thought among men so few connoisseurs I'd view.
Who can play it once to harmonize heaven and earth?
Who can play it again to bring court and folk mirth?
Court and folk's joy and pleasure know no bound;
Chariots and horses crowd, splendid robes abound.
Yearly by Fen River flutes and drums resound;
Daily by Yi River pipes and reeds are found.
Graceful towers stand along the royal way;
Charming songs and dances from Pingyang hold sway.
Zither playing owes fame to Ren Zu's art;
Flute blowing has always praised Ji Chang's part.
Yet I love refined songs, though plain their taste be;
Who values clear streams and white clouds like me?
I'll still use rare verse to please my secluded mind,
Unaware complex sounds discuss thoughts deep behind.
I hear the emperor's music equals that of the sky;
If I may hope my humble self to serve on zithers high,
I wish to keep the tones of Dongwu's melody,
And offer them to Southern Breeze for eternity.