Zhang Sheng holds the Stone Drum text, urging me to try a Stone Drum Song.
Du Fu gone, Li Bai dead, my talent thin, what to do with these drums?
Zhou's order declined, four seas seethed; King Xuan rose in wrath, waved heaven's spear.
Opened bright hall, received court homage, lords' sword pendants clashed and ground.
Hunted at Qiyang, drove heroes, beasts for miles all ensnared.
Engraved merit, recorded deeds, told ten thousand ages; quarried stone, made drums, toppled peaks.
Attending ministers, skill all first-rate, chosen to compose, carve, left on mountain slopes.
Rain-drenched, sun-scorched, wild-fired burned, ghostly things guard, laboriously warded off.
Where did you get this paper copy, sir? Every hair complete, no error.
Words stern, meaning dense, hard to read; script style unlike clerical or ke.
Years deep, how avoid missing strokes? Like sharp sword chopping live croc-dragons.
Phoenixes soar, phoenixes hover, immortals descend; coral, jade trees intertwine branches.
Golden ropes, iron chains, lock knots strong; ancient tripod leaps water, dragon shoots shuttle.
Crude scholars compiled poems, didn't include; the Two Ya narrow, lacking grace.
Confucius west travel didn't reach Qin, plucking stars, missed the sun and moon.
Alas, I love antiquity, born too late; facing this, tears stream doubly down.
Recall first receiving Doctor summons, that year began called Yuanhe.
Old friend in army at Right Support, for me measured, dug the mortar bases.
Washed cap, bathed, told the Chancellor: "Such treasures, how many exist?"
Felt-wrapped, mat-bound, can be fetched at once; ten drums, just a few camels load.
Present to Ancestral Temple, compare to Gao tripod, glory's worth a hundred times more.
If imperial grace allows leave in Imperial College, students can explain,切磋.
Viewing sutras at Hongdu still clogged; soon see whole country come rushing.
Carve moss, pick lichen, expose edges; place secure, level, not tilted.
Great halls, deep eaves, with cover;经历久远,期无他。
Court high officials old in affairs, would they be moved, merely hesitant?
Cowherds strike fire, oxen sharpen horns; who again will handle, caress them?
Days consume, months melt, toward burial; six years west gaze, vainly chant.
Wang Xizhi's vulgar script courts charm, few sheets still can barter white geese.
After Zhou, eight dynasties war ended; none gathered, sorted, what then?
Now peace, days without event; power held by Confucian arts, honor Qiu and Ke.
How can I with this present arguments? Wish to borrow eloquence like a hanging river.
The Stone Drum Song ends here; alas, my wish likely wasted.