River miasma, climate harsh,
Courtyard empty, fields lie waste.
One day of vexing gloom,
Three or four shades of darkness shift.
Nesting birds soil the bed mat,
Flies speckle the skin.
Not enough to breed curses and rage,
But bitter for lack of joy.
Night brings slight clarity and peace,
I stretch my limbs, call out before the steps.
Not yet sated with thoughts of breeze and moon,
Already besieged by mosquitoes' schemes.
I bear this official's life,
I live in Heaven and Earth's furnace.
How dare I tire of the sweltering heat?
When have insects ever been absent?
At dawn I sit in the hall's corridor,
Striving to trudge through the mud.
Official duties remain unfinished,
Regrets and perils loom.
Outside the gate, the bamboo bridge breaks,
My horse, startled, dares not cross.
I turn back, order the servant boy,
Who towards me hesitates, face full of doubt.
Considering my own ruinous state,
How can I interrogate and punish others?
Swallowing hidden resentment,
I instead force a pleasant tone.
Slowly, the towering sun,
Gleams bright in the southeast corner.
Yet clouds soon cover it again,
Not letting light reach the muddy ground.
Good farmers' fields all reeds and rushes,
Rich earth piled with stagnant filth.
Sun, moon, and stars cannot shine through,
How then can all things revive?
If only I had Feilian's chariot,
To rend the Cloud General's body apart.
And wield the Sword of Pure Yang,
To butcher the joints of flood dragons.
All malignant vapors swept away by lightning,
All dark demons driven off by thunder.
Resplendent, I'd open the Heavenly Gates,
With a grinding turn, shift the axis of the sky.
East and west give birth to sun and moon,
Day and night spin like turning pearls.
All rivers flow to the vast sea,
Six dragons tread the prosperous road.
This vision is vastly more expansive,
Its coming was always meant to be brief.
Now, a vast expanse of mud,
Giant turtles truly have their way.