The cosmos grants its form, the sovereign's gaze discerns, bestowing you prosperity and years.
Alas, the grand sojourn.
Time ages the traveler's cloak.
With autumn's advent, sudden as the willow's withering.
Cassias bloom anew.
Perch, water shield, crab, and orange at their prime—old friends must recall our wine-passing hands.
I envision the cliffs draped with vines, the courtyard graced by parasol trees, the scene of yore unchanged.
Leaning on the lofty tower, I gaze afar at the slanting sun.
I ask: when will your boat pass by the river's head?
Riding a humble carriage, donning a scholar's cap, in brocade robes you'd roam the day.
Yet.
You remain a luminary among guests.
Our bond, like metal and stone, profound in shared intent.
On misty boats of twin lakes, your sword's aura pierces the Dipper.
Leaving behind drenched ink of mastery, clear songs that soar—surely not alone in pacing through a thousand verses.
Once I hang up official cap and robe, I'll seek your staff and sandals; to share this joy is a must.
To this day, I crave not the fiefdom of Wine Spring.
I wish to return alive, through the Jade Gate, retiring early.
Let distant folk inquire of my well-being as they will.
Though the Garden of Liang teems with guests.
Who stands to the right of Xiangru?
Meeting in robust health, in times of peace, where streams and hills shine clear and fair.
Raising the cup to you—how shall I respond?
May there be years on years, people and moon enduring long.