鐔津文集 19.11

19.11

吾道比孔子。譬如掌與拳。展握故有異。要之手則然。晚世苦陵夷。講習失淵源。君看投迹者。紛紛等狂顛。韓子亦儒衣。倔強稱時賢。憑陵作詬語。到死不少悛。後世師韓輩。冗長猶可憐。趨名不自信。泛逐工詞言。譁然皇祐初。飛聲鬧喧闐。田衣動成群。怒癭空自懸。縮首不暇息。兀坐如蹲猿。堂堂東山公。才大德亦全。齒牙生風雷。筆陣森戈鋋。隱然湖海上。長庚橫曉天。作書肆豪猛。揮斥莫敢前。群兒雖貌敬。臆論已不專。書成謁天子。一日萬口傳。坐令天下士。欲見嗟無緣。功成還山中。笑語答雲烟。我來不及見。山水自明鮮。入門寂無聲。修竹空滿軒。永懷翛然姿。骨目聳清堅。僮奴豈知此。住茲亦彌年。指余以石塔。草棘北峯巔。再拜不忍去。聽此遶㵎泉。吁嗟末運中。那復斯人焉。文章亦細事。清苦非所便。但愛公所守。遠拍諸祖肩。遲遲哦公詩。落日滿晴川。願持折脚鐺。結茅西㵎邊。歲時邏松檜。來此掃頹磚。

Comparing our Way to Confucius / Is like comparing an open palm to a fist: / Extending and grasping are naturally different, / But in essence it is the same hand. / In the late age, it suffered decline; / Expositions and practice lost the profound source. / Look at those who commit their traces: / Crowding in confusion, they are like madmen. / Master Han also wore Confucian robes, / Stubbornly called a worthy of his era; / Presumptuously he uttered abusive words, / Unto death not relenting in the least. / Later generations of Han's disciples / Are verbose and truly pitiable; / Chasing fame without self-confidence, / Drifting along, striving for clever phrasing. / Clamorous in the early Huangyou era, / Flying rumors raised a tumultuous din; / Those in monastic robes moved in droves, / Angrily bearing galls hanging in vain; / Shrinking their necks without time to catch their breath, / Sitting motionlessly like crouching apes. / Stately was the Duke of Dongshan! / His talent was great, his virtue also complete; / Wind and thunder issued from his teeth; / The ranks of his brush bristled with pikes and spears. / Towering over the lakes and seas, / Like the Morning Star spanning the dawn sky. / Composing writings, he gave rein to heroic ferocity; / Sweeping through, none dared face him. / Though the youngsters showed outward respect, / Their subjective views were no longer focused. / When his books were done, he visited the Son of Heaven; / In one day, ten thousand mouths spread his fame; / Straightway he made the scholars of the realm / Lament that they lacked the fortune to see him. / With merit accomplished, he returned to the mountains, / Laughing and chatting, answering the clouds and mist. / I arrived too late to see him; / The mountains and waters remain clear and fresh. / Entering the gate, all is silent without a sound; / Tall bamboos in vain fill the veranda. / Forever I cherish his untrammeled presence: / His bones and eyes towered, pure and firm. / How could the servant boys know of this? / Yet they have lived here for full many years. / They pointed out to me the stone pagoda, / Amidst grass and brambles atop the northern peak. / Bowing twice, I could not bear to leave, / Listening to the spring circling the ravine. / Alas! In the midst of this final age, / How could there ever be such a man again? / Literary writings are after all petty matters; / Pure asceticism is not an easy practice; / I only love what the Duke maintained, / From afar clapping the shoulders of the patriarchs. / Slowly and deliberately I chant the Duke's poems; / The setting sun fills the clear river. / I wish to take a broken-legged cauldron, / And build a thatched hut beside the western ravine; / Through the seasons walking the pines and junipers, / Coming here to sweep the crumbling bricks.