I was born in a country, and grew up on the plains. My words are hesitant and awkward, and I also lack strong support. I have shallow wisdom and narrow ability; my knowledge and experience are also meager. Having spoken several times about convenient matters, I was resented by those under the gate. The king did not discern its long-term benefits; ultimately it was abandoned on the plains. I humbly reflect upon my past mistakes, but find nothing that can be changed. The crowd forms cliques; the ruler above becomes increasingly confused. Cunning flatterers are in front, while virtuous people fall silent. Yao and Shun, the sage kings, have already passed away; who now is loyal and upright? High mountains tower majestically; rivers flow swiftly. The day of death is approaching, and I am treated like a deer in a pit. Lying alone on the roadside for lodging, the whole world is thus; to whom shall I complain? Drive away cranes and swans, and instead befriend hawks and owls; cut down tangerine and pomelo trees, and plant bitter apricot trees in their place. The graceful and tall bamboo grows as a parasite by the river pools. Above, it flourishes but is guarded against dew; below, it is cool and brings wind. Who knows that they are not in harmony? Like the bamboo and cypress having different hearts. The past cannot be reached, and the future cannot be awaited. O vast heavens above! No one will rescue or justify me. I secretly resent the ruler's failure to awaken; I alone shall die and that is all.