哀秋夕辭 李崇仁
哀秋夕之慘悽兮風雨颯其晦宴懷沉憂以假寐兮魂聇聇其上征指虛無以恍忽兮若有路乎紆縈忽焉升彼蒼兮儼玉皇之高居門四闢以招徠兮孰云却步而趑趄入余跪而陳辭兮皇爲之色敷腴曰下土之微臣兮心菀結猶未得信曩余僅免襁褓兮動必師乎古之人惟仲尼之垂訓兮殺身以成仁志士不忘在溝壑兮子輿味夫斯言寧力不足而或斃兮羗佩服以拳拳忠君與愛國兮志專專其靡佗何時俗之險巇兮學曲而心阿視余猶机上臠兮旣鼓吻又磨牙彼讒諛之得志兮自昔匈人國也雖萬死余無悔兮恐此志之不白也時陟高以瞰遠兮余舍此而安適惟皇德之孔仁兮拯余乎陸之沉涕洟交以雨滂兮謇心噎而欽欽皇愍余之深衷兮徠爾聽我辭所貴學之道兮能變通而推移日中則昃兮月盈而虧天道亦不可久常兮在人事其何疑世旣惡夫方兮爾何惜乎爲圓世旣尙夫白兮爾胡獨守此玄我哀爾之遭罹兮亦惟爾之故也欲去危以就安兮盍反爾之道也余默退而靜思兮皇恩之罔極也竊不敢改余之初服兮固長終乎窮阨前余生之千古兮其在後者無窮矢余志之不迴兮仰前脩而飭躬世貿貿莫我知兮庶憑辭以自通
The autumn evening descends in desolation, wind and rain sweep the darkening sky. Cradling sorrow, I drift into shallow sleep— my spirit rises and wanders upward. I point toward the void, lost in reverie, winding paths appear before me. Suddenly I ascend to heaven's vault, where the Jade Emperor's palace stands in splendor. The gates swing open in welcome— who would hesitate or retreat? Entering, I kneel and speak my heart. The Divine One's countenance grows serene. “From the dust below, a humble subject comes, my bound heart yearns for release. Since escaping my swaddling clothes, I have looked only to the ancients as my guide. Confucius taught us to shed our skin for righteousness, and Mencius echoed: the man of purpose fears not the grave. So I have guarded my sworn path— faithful to my lord, devoted to my land, steadfast, unmoved by the world's deceits. Yet how the times have turned treacherous! Flatterers bend their words to suit the moment, and scheming lips move all to their advantage. They regard me as meat upon the block, saliva on their tongues, teeth grinding. These slanderers have thrived since ancient days, bringing ruin to nations. Then let me die ten thousand times— I have no regret. My only fear is that my truth shall never shine.” Climbing high to gaze afar, I see no other refuge. By the Emperor's boundless mercy, will He not lift me from this drowning? Tears and rain mingle, pouring down, my chest tightens with emotion. The Emperor takes pity on my depths and speaks: “Come now, attend to my words. The virtue of learning lies in this: to bend with the times, to flow and transform. The sun at zenith must decline, the full moon must wane. Heaven itself knows no fixed state— why doubt that human affairs work thus? The world demands one shape—why cling to another? The age prizes white—why guard your darkness alone? I pity your affliction, yet know this: it stems from your own nature. To escape danger and find peace, must you not alter your course?” I withdraw in silence, lost in thought. The Emperor's grace knows no bounds, yet I cannot abandon my first resolve. I shall end my days in hardship. Those who came a thousand years before me, and those who shall come after, stretch into infinity. I swear my purpose shall not waver. Looking back to the ancients, I refine myself. The world, oblivious, knows me not. So I write these words to comfort my own heart.