The ancients' wealth and honor
Lay in returning to their native town.
Like wearing brocade in daylight strolls,
Their splendor shone for all around.
If not, like walking in the night,
How could its beauty then be found?
Such deeds are chronicled in books,
And now in common talk resound.
Some bore the seal of governor,
Some rode as envoys, duty-bound.
Woodcutters sang, forgetting past woes;
Washers hid their humble background.
They settled scores with joy and haste,
Let love and hate run wild, unbound.
If their ambition stopped right here,
They're not worth praise, as I propound.
Now I return to this old land,
Not to show off or be renowned.
Illness makes me gauge my own strength,
Fearful the post can't be astound.
I begged to give my seal away,
To guard my home, on native ground.
The Emperor said, "I approve,"
And sent me forth with flags unbound.
The travelers did not say 'no,'
But praise filled fields for miles around.
My sickly frame found some respite,
My ancestors' graves were safe and sound.
I kept the elders through the years,
Made offerings pure and profound.
Who shares such grace and honor now?
Weak, I'm ashamed to be renowned.
In leisure, I built this new hall—
Not for feasting, as can be found.
Nor to spread a glorious name,
Or mock the gentry, light and unsound.
High pay allows a life of ease,
Yet in my heart, a battle's ground.
I hope, when seeing this plaque's name,
To think of how my lord's grace crowned.
How can you repay? Advance the Way,
With tireless steps, on virtue's ground.
Loyalty and righteousness—great virtues—
Like rock, they cannot be turned around.
Though cauldrons boil ahead of me,
I'd face my death, with oath profound.
My sincere heart is hard to tell,
Tears fall as brush and inkstone sound.