For millennia, records trace the rise and fall of states.
What kingdom's fate was not self-wrought? Each tale its source relates.
Ruin springs from losing the Way; alliance, virtue's grace.
Where virtue reigns, all flourish—no need to guard 'gainst foes' embrace.
When the great principle stands upright, high and low unite as one.
No Gong or Gun at court remain; all serve like Yi and Ji, the sage's son.
Rule the world by this, and no rival under heaven shall arise.
Without the Way, one surely falls—no cunning can suffice.
If the core is not upright, disaster stirs beyond surmise.
Not for lack of careful schemes, nor vigilance that never sleeps.
Dragons, snakes rise from the plain; blades, swords from the bed's soft deeps.
I oft lamented King of Wu, who spurned Wu Yuan's advice.
A father's foe shares not the sky; Wu and Yue cannot both stand, no price.
Defeated at Fujiao, revenge for Zuili's strife was paid.
If his killing heart had not relented, Yue's breath he would have stayed.
Five thousand sheltered at Kuaiji, shields and armor still blood-stained.
One strike to end them all—future peril forever restrained.
Yet in haste, alas, spirits stole his resolve away.
Trusting not his loyal minister, he let the perfect moment stray.
In a flash, twenty years passed—Yue troops broke the Wu domain.
Thus Taibo's lineage, in one day, saw its sacrificial blood wane.
Even now, in dusty scrolls, readers sigh with deep regret.
Yet pondering the cause, this matter need not fret.
Wu's fall had its own root; destroying Yue brought no gain.
Fuchai indeed erred greatly, but Wu Yuan's plan was also vain.
All affairs take principle as rule; all principles dwell in the heart.
A hair's-breadth bias in love or hate, success and failure miles apart.
When the root is straight, fear not the branch; when the host is strong, the guest brings no smart.
Of four hundred and four ills, the deadliest lies in the marrow's part.
Outer evils cause scant worry; inner foes surpass locusts' dart.
The home's ruin lies not in fences; the state's fall not in walls of stone.
Resentment springs not from sworn foes; worry not from barbarians alone.
Most venomous are petty men; certain doom lies in beauty's throne.
A hundred woes arise from pride; hosts of grievances from harshness grown.
Destruction comes with no mercy; death follows willful passion sown.
Zilan as confidant surely doomed the Mi clan's state.
Zhao Gao by the ruler's tent—Qin's fall had fixed its date.
At Hongmen, to kill Lord Pei—blood on the tent-floor sealed his fate.
Jin's disaster lay in Jia Chong, not Liu or Shi, the rebels' weight.
The Pinglu commander could not escape the law's three-foot decree.
The Rainbow Skirt dance at Huaqing—could it bring no victory?
Goujian might have been removed, yet Zai Pi stood by the king.
Xishi danced as sunset fell; Wu's palace turned to thorny spring.
Zixu's plan was truly loyal, yet perhaps missed urgency's sting.
Fuchai's spirit was already seized; Goujian, self-made, took everything.
Kill one but leave the rest—how can a riotous gate be barred?
A message to Wu Zixu: choose good and evil, be on guard.
Chaos and ruin should be pondered; the hardest task is to rule the heart.