I ponder Heaven's creation of life,
Life is but an empty, crude vessel.
At five, I received kind instruction,
Eager and earnest in my will to study.
At seven, I discerned tones and rhythms,
Toiling hard to master poetry and prose.
At nine, I held official papers,
Unrestrained, aiming for fame and rank.
I begged for recommendation from village elders,
And luckily met the spring official exam.
Snapping the cassia branch, I'm ashamed of its loftiness;
Leaning on the lotus, what flavor is there?
My nature is clumsy, utterly unskilled in flattery,
My talent short, with no room to spare.
Years ago I met a true friend,
His recommendation letter was truly unfounded.
Would that I see the people content,
Vainly bearing the trust of my lord.
From Qutang Gorge to Bayu region,
Coming and going, famed for holding the reins.
A lone boat in the midst of the river,
The hardships and dangers are truly fearsome.
All pull the hundred-fathom towline,
Facing peril, none shirk or avoid.
The surge erupts from the riverbed,
The water boils among the rocks.
They beat drums, calling it 'striking wide',
Tying ropes, shouting 'lower the weft'.
How can good and evil be separated?
Why should life and death be taboo?
Riding the balustrade or by the hall's edge—
It's not that I don't know the old warnings.
Facing the abyss or treading on thin ice—
It's not that I lack deep consideration.
Now I am entangled in officialdom,
Who will bring me to a good place?
The city fox and the temple rat—
Who shelters the cunning and flattering?
The slave's face and the maid's knees—
Who fawns upon the ugly and upright?
Wife and children are far separated,
My face has grown haggard and worn.
Those who reach the high heavens,
Alas, they exhaust all wisdom and virtue.