| 英譯： |
The great odes have had no revival,
Who will continue the effort after I am gone?
The ways of ancient kings were overgrown with weeds,
Brambles thrived everywhere in the Warring States.
Dragons and tigers tore at one another,
Long battles did not end with the power-crazed Ch'in.
How the true voice grew weak and dim,
Then sorrow and lament inspired the sao poets.
Yang and Ma aroused the ebbing tide,
And new currents began to flow everywhere.
Though their rise and fall alternate time and again,
Still, the great tradition suffered a great decline.
Ever since the time of the Chien-an masters,
Fine phrases and ornate style have been overpraised.
Our great age has restored the ancient tradition,
As His Majesty values only what is pure and true.
A host of talents flock to the enlightened court;
Availing themselves of the happy trend, they all leap to recognition.
Style and substance lend each other brilliance,
Like myriad stars blinking in an autumn sky.
I desire to select and transmit the old,
So that its splendor will last a thousand ages.
If I could keep to the tradition of the sage,
I'd stop writing at the capture of the unicorn.
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