A peak in Lin'an pierces the round purple sky,
Your family pines and oaks stand steep and high.
The waves of Wu Zixu flow face to face,
Mount Qinwang lies before like a desk in place.
All say the northern hills are grand and rare,
A noble minister's fortune none can compare.
Who knew the Lord on high would grant a worthy aide,
The mountain spirit bred this talent in its shade?
Such hills beget such men, a truth we hold,
Though man-made, it's Heaven's principle, we're told.
Young, you embraced statecraft with learning vast,
No sage before you matched your shadow cast.
Your mind holds classics, sages' wisdom deep,
Your pen reveres three dynasties, the throne you keep.
Wealth and honor came early, soon you tired,
Fame and merit were not what you desired.
Heaven's five blessings are not ours to seek,
Yet born with you, they've graced your life, so meek.
To wish you happy birthday is commonplace,
My stammering, empty words are a disgrace.
What gift have I that's worthy of your grace?
Worldly tastes are but a cup of water's trace.
The ancients grieved at white hair, sought to sweep,
Ate hardy meals, yellow essence, strength to keep.
You feast on virtue's richness, face aglow,
No need for herbs to make your hair and teeth grow.
May court and forest be alike to you,
A hundred years of peace, both old and new.
You live not for yourself but for all men,
Watching us age like in sage Yao's reign.
Like eight pillars firm in the azure height,
Upholding the sublime, endless and bright.