A Poem for Ancient Record Clerk Zichun Wei, No 1.
Author: Bai Li(AD701-AD762, Tang Dynasty)
Translator: Lei Fan 2017 in Chicago
Hermit Zizhen Zheng once lived in the mountains,
Farming and fishing in the barren lands.
His fame was heard in the forbidden city,
His name was known by everyone on the streets.
He never wanted to serve the court, become an official,
Slept in the forest, surrounded by clouds and pine trees.
Why to live alone and only take care of your own good,
But left everyone else suffering?
Zichun, you are from once a prestigious family,
The dynasty is thriving, but your family is declining.
You can talk about state affairs eloquently without a stop,
And you know every details about diplomacy and strategy.
Like Nobleman Xie, you do not want to wait in vain,
Without hesitation, you serve countless lives.
As a clerk who manages the ancient records,
We all know even this title does not commensurate your abilities.
Now you are demoted, maybe it’s time to go back home,
There is nothing left in this golden palace for you to concern.
You old house is probably desolated and decayed,
Buried by the overgrown weeds and underbushes.
Gaze at the Peak of Nuji not far away,
It stands still, faces moon and clouds abashedly.
赠韦秘书子春 – 其一
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