Before the Hall of Soaring Flight, the citrus and pomelo are fragrant,
Lotus leaves spread wide, floating on shimmering waves.
The master takes the reins, crossing the Min mountain range,
Galloping forth, all for the sake of the common people's plight.
Heaven's talents are not bestowed in vain,
They must be matched with affairs of equal weight.
Your talent is ample, with strength to spare,
How can you stand idly by, with folded hands, and merely stare?
Throughout your life, you've borne a stern and cold demeanor,
Unskilled in flattery, you stand firm, a rival never keener.
In former times, you boldly joined the state's debate,
Refusing silence, you would not accept a passive fate.
Why does the Master, aged nine hundred, choose this bitter road?
Hardships and perils must be tasted, a heavy load.
When starving folk by Jade Stream once rose in discontent,
The imperial guard was summoned, in haste they came and went.
The brocade-clad envoy quelled the strife in just three days,
Demons and specters vanished, deep within the bamboo maze.
The victory report claims no credit for the deed,
Yet some forget, ashamed to check their steed.
This year, with jade tally, beneath the Lotus Peak you stand,
Commanding sea gods, calming vessels across the land.
Rumors whisper of slight alarms in neighboring domains,
Where reckless youths often stir, and trouble remains.
Such crowds are not subdued by gentle means alone,
Blood will surely stain the blades, till peace is known.
The root of illness never lies in one cause alone,
Do not boast of remedies from successes you have shown.
Plans require breadth, and strategies demand tight secrecy,
Welcome all insights with a mind of humility.
The overall layout must be timely and precise,
Brave warriors will then arise, with fervor in their eyes.
Our venerable elder, well-versed in martial art,
Fortunate indeed, in crimson shoes, returns to where his heart.
How could he lack concern for his native soil?
Wisdom left in his bag should once more uncoil.
With one heart aiding, within this hall we meet,
Who leads the troops, who commands, who supplies the wheat?
If not, then pray to Heaven, open the altar, wield the axe,
The old bear blocks the path, driving the wolf packs.
Armor, weapons, funds, and grain are also part of the plan,
Seizing chances swiftly is beyond a common man.
Is it that where I go, troubles multiply?
Heaven drives me into fame's arena, I comply.
When citrus and pomelo turn golden, hear good words arise,
Four green-silk messengers urge my return, under the skies.