Observing the world's affairs through a narrow tube, I see its very heart and liver laid bare.
Only the corvée system stands out, its judgment being the hardest to bear.
Take a single village for discussion, its benefits and ills are too many to tell.
Land varies in breadth, household registers swell or dwindle as well.
The rich see their holdings grow day by day, while the poor cannot pay their tax due.
The timid fear it like mice, the strong act like tigers, fierce and true.
Selected by the 'flowing water' method, resources are far from equal or fair.
Otherwise, the 'white-footed' corvée falls on those with a single male heir.
Discrepancies often arise, leaving many posts to fill.
Today's duck-and-goose officials, with crafty writings, do greater ill.
Often with a single paper, they urgently summon one to the magistrate's seat.
Saying, 'You shall serve as deputy warden,' interrogating thieves without a retreat.
Saying, 'You shall act as household head,' collecting taxes without time to eat.
If one slightly delays or disobeys, angry scolds tear hat and scarf apart.
If the senior official fails to see, he stirs the waves, adding to the smart.
Beaten till the skin is barely whole, on the road, one walks in sorrow and pain.
Common folk suffer injustice and bitterness, looking back, their livelihood is slain.
Circumstances leave no choice, disputes and lawsuits begin to arise.
A seeks faults in B thereafter, B searches for A's flaws under the skies.
Shattering homes, yet peace is not restored, how can joy and gathering be born?
A benevolent heart is stirred, not viewing them as strangers, forlorn.
A memorial proposes the 'righteous corvée,' to slightly ease the people's strain.
And our worthy magistrate, elegant as the orchids of the Xie clan's domain.
His gentle spirit can be cupped like spring, his ice-pot clarity chills one's soul.
A glimpse of his governance, he briefly halts his ascent to the golden goal.
Like a skilled cook's knife, wherever it goes, it cuts through hip and thigh.
Yellow-haired children and white-haired elders sit in a circle, drawing nigh.
Not expecting to see such a good method, clamor ceases, worries and sighs die.
But I, foolish,庸 and crude, a late learner imitating Handan's style.
Regret lacking a good plan, offering this to a wise man, all the while.
A volume of Chunxi's records, orderly and fit to be engraved in stone.
Observing further the righteous corvée's practice, it began in Chen Chun'an, it is known.