Your fine lines are wasted on me in my office
I read them with regret this autumn dawn
I may be magistrate but I'm still a lodger
with nothing to welcome an honored guest
the countryside is free of yesterday's clouds
the sky is clear and the morning dew is fresh
the lotuses in the pond have felt the chill
the paulownia outside is letting go its leaves
the capital is known for stylish scenes
this town is all brambles and weeds
and more and more taxes to raise more armies
such imbecilic policies make me feel ashamed
your eminence served in the Great Hall many years
now in midcareer you've been set adrift
but you'll be returning to that illustrious court
and why think of someone struck here on the Huai