The Yangtze, a natural moat, clouds roil the central plain, a chessboard's strategic gain.
Which Han general stands?
Why not sweep them clean, these bands?
Their tricks are spent, like the Guizhou donkey, impotent.
The guest knows well.
What talent fails in this age to dwell?
Repeated decrees from the throne, earnest and keen.
Discussing verse by the horse's head, viewing the sword by lamplight, could this not stir the spirit's might?
Luckily, Kongtong's wheat is ripe, let the troops rest.
What need for Chen Lin's flying manifest?
A flute from the tower, among ten thousand willows in the camp, banners wave with从容 ease.
Alas!
Each era has its northern foe.
Current worthies lack the grand design's glow.
Lord Ziyan steps forth, the foe will start to see the 'flower' character's art.
Vainly, with hair unbound, I worried for the neighbor's plight, ashamed to laugh at beheadings, can guest-evil truly harm the vital light?
I'll await presenting the memorial, then ask the recluse with a text, this old man is about to leave, perplexed.
Fear the young barbarians still peep through the crevice deep.
Like the Fei River's children raising troops in a heap.
Look! The revival's heroic deeds, worthy to keep.
Following the world's fashion, what skills can one reap?
You, sir, make your own plan.
No hindrance to this old man, vigorous and spry, let sandals crowd outside, I won't comply.
Why need a Xian Mountain monument, grandly carved?
Heaven knows the measure of the heart, preserved.