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On the festival of the moon to sub-official zhang
qiàn
yún

juǎn
tiān
wú
hé
,
,
qīng
fēng
chuī
kōng
yuè
shū
bō
.
.

shā
píng
shuǐ

shēng
yǐng
jué
,
,

bēi
xiāng
shǔ
jūn
dāng
gē
.
.

jūn
gē
shēng
suān

jū
kǔ
,
,
bù
néng
tīng
zhōng
lèi
rú
yǔ
.
.

dòng
tíng
lián
tiān
jǐu

gāo
,
,
jiāo
lóng
chū
méi
xīng
wú
hào
.
.

shí
shēng
jǐu

dào
guān
suǒ
,
,
yōu
jū
mò
mò
rú
cáng
táo
.
.

xià
chuáng
wèi
shé
shí
wèi
yào
,
,
hǎi

shī
湿
zhé
xūn
xīng
sāo
.
.

zuó
zhě
zhōu
qián
chuí
dà
gǔ
,
,

huáng

shèng
dēng
kuí
gāo
.
.

shè
shū


xíng
wàn

,
,
zuì
cóng
dà

jiē
chú

.
.

qiān
zhě
zhuī
huí
líu
zhě
hái
,
,

xiá
dàng
gòu
qīng
cháo
bān
.
.

zhōu
jiā
shēn
míng
shǐ
使
jiā

,
,
kǎn
kē

dé

jīng
mán
.
.

pàn

bēi
guān
bù
kān
shuō
,
,
wèi
miǎn
chuí
chǔ
chén
āi
jiān
.
.

tóng
shí
bèi
líu
duō
shàng
dào
,
,
tiān
lù
yōu
xiǎn
nán
zhuī
pān
.
.

jūn
gē
jū
xīu
tīng
wǒ
gē
,
,
wǒ
gē
jīn
yǔ
jūn
shū
kē
.
.


nián
míng
yuè
jīn
xiāo
duō
,
,
rén
shēng
yóu
mìng
fēi
yóu
tā


yǒu
jǐu
bù
yǐn
nài
míng
hé

The fine clouds have opened and the River of Stars is gone,

A clear wind blows across the sky, and the moon widens its wave,

The sand is smooth, the water still, no sound and no shadow,

As I offer you a cup of wine, asking you to sing.

But so sad is this song of yours and so bitter your voice

That before I finish listening my tears have become a rain:

"Where Lake Dongting is joined to the sky by the lofty Nine-Doubt Mountain,

Dragons, crocodiles, rise and sink, apes, flying foxes, whimper....

At a ten to one risk of death, I have reached my official post,

Where lonely I live and hushed, as though I were in hiding.

I leave my bed, afraid of snakes; I eat, fearing poisons;

The air of the lake is putrid, breathing its evil odours....

Yesterday, by the district office, the great drum was announcing

The crowning of an emperor, a change in the realm.

The edict granting pardons runs three hundred miles a day,

All those who were to die have had their sentences commuted,

The unseated are promoted and exiles are recalled,

Corruptions are abolished, clean officers appointed.

My superior sent my name in but the governor would not listen

And has only transferred me to this barbaric place.

My rank is very low and useless to refer to;

They might punish me with lashes in the dust of the street.

Most of my fellow exiles are now returning home --

A journey which, to me, is a heaven beyond climbing."

...Stop your song, I beg you, and listen to mine,

A song that is utterly different from yours:

"Tonight is the loveliest moon of the year.

All else is with fate, not ours to control;

But, refusing this wine, may we choose more tomorrow?"


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