As an official, taking bribes, one is bound by wooden cangues;
The Han Chancellor suddenly met his end at the Eastern Market's block.
Better to be a merchant who reaps illicit gains,
Hoarding goods, deceiving people, none aware of the scheme.
A poor scholar in plain cloth guards the village school,
Night after night, a lone lamp shares his solitude.
Better to be a merchant drunk with famed courtesans,
Shouting "a million!" as dice are cast in games of chance.
Oh, the merchant's joy! Truly, again, joy!
Great ships fly over mountains, race past town walls.
Coral treasures outnumber the Tower of Green Pearl;
Household servants surpass those of Zhuo in Linqiong.
Ten-ox carts, three hundred loads,
Ivory white as snow, rhino horns red as teeth.
Dogs are fed meat and sleep on felt rugs,
Horse stables and donkey troughs are painted vermilion too.
In life, I envy not the Phoenix Pool;
In death, I care not for the Unicorn Pavilion. The merchant's joy! Truly, again, joy!
Lately, in June, the Qiantang tide,
One merchant's cry alarms a thousand merchants.
Great winds come from the Dushuo Mountain,
Blowing down Min and E, making Heng and Yue dance.
In one river, in one day, a thousand ships perish;
The four seas and five lakes can be measured in sorrow.
All treasures sink to the Dragon King's palace,
Where shrimp, crabs, turtles, and soft-shelled turtles feast at will.
People say the merchant is joyful,
But sometimes the merchant is not joyful.
A hundred years of scheming, a thousand-year heart's intent,
Cannot withstand a single day of fierce wind and wave.