中华文脉，苍海横流八百代；肇始太古，星汉轮转五千载。乾坤和顺，经纬有度。至北宋眉山苏门，彭老山秀，绝巘崚嶒，倚昊天而贯长虹；馨霭盈涧，蹊壑幽而流泉奔涌；青山出   ，雺雾奇而玄幻；列壑逶迤，接瑶天之紫气；揽峰巃嵷，毓福地之滋荣。景佑三年，诞轼仙乡，草枯山荒。星苍苍斗柄转，昆睽睽天地摇；瞻秉八德，无气而芳，润泽以温。八州探花，左牵黄，右擎苍。西北望，射天狼。霓裳羽衣寄游月，红尘托踪，对床子由。夫惟魁星耀目，雅韵流同，冠绝人间。一甲子又五年，坡仙驾鹤西遊，山复翠微。

轼深百官，安万民，罹祸乌台，紫陌云愁，出汴梁，渡淮水，羁旅黄州五载。饮清风而抱明月，挟飞仙兮酹酒浆。借废垒躬耕，筑雪堂，书《寒食》就寒光释《周易》。长吁《赤壁》酾酒临江，横槊赋诗，固一世枭雄而今安在哉？好一个江山如画！嗟呼，自此轼蜕为东坡。放浪山水间，形同野老，与樵渔杂处，无累世之俗情，把盏与宇宙同歌。续人文之薪火，物我美恶两相忘，已将地狱等天宫，此心安为吾乡，任一衰烟雨。

观夫公谪惠，壁斜阳苍茫，足忘饥寒嘲冷。位卑未忘忧国，为民在野忧思，修桥筑堤，请税收之减算。知解农桑之苦，悯黎庶之卑，除痺疾而施药。民疾于心，良知而唉，虽黜于角隅，仍昭心于明灿。

嗟夫，有凤止于庭，纵情逸旷之云天。逆旅于途，耳静欣于景美；漂萍于寄，心安无忌于地荒。梦回杭州，且借罗浮之春，醉眼糯酒。

古之儋耳，文明发轫蛮荒，坡恬淡载酒常笑：天地在和水之中，九州在大瀛海中，中国在四海中之中。荔啖食美，骑鲸踏浪逰穹海；随物赋形，一笔一纸醉销魂。设东坡学堂，恍榔庵书声动天。琼自之有士始于儋，地脉不绝天荒破。

悲乎红颜玉殒，白首镜兮，消如夕露。王弗敏静，條忽残灯倩影，十年生死两茫茫；闰之持家，奈琴瑟而之焚，依稀旧稿之遗文。惟朝云解语，楼空人瘦，孤冢青茵，共湖厮守，痛阴阳两隔飘然若梦。渺渺兮予怀，蝶恋花兮天一方。

眉山汤汤，留香毂行，惧不外饰，性不由辙，马嘶高岗，居陋室兮怀行藏。道大不容，才高为累。名重招谤，性直被防，信祸福兮无常。才修其美，文赋歌绝，气蕴其雄豪放；饱学文章，以诗入词，落茫沧桑笔感；画书墨韵，枯木怪石，唯儒释道入心。坡仙醉兮？狂兮？梦兮？地上奇观，罡气浩荡，方独步于古今，超然于万世！

癸卯年甲子月乙已日 于帝京西山

（2023年12月13日 冬月初一）

Ode of Dong Po

YUAN Xiao-Lou

The Chinese culture has been inherited for over eight hundred generations, beginning in ancient times and enduring through five thousand years of changing world. The Chinese culture remains harmonious and orderly, with dark and light complementing each other. Till the Northern Song Dynasty (960 -1127 CE), the Su family emerged in Mount Mei, where the old Mount Peng is blessed with stunning scenery and where steep peaks seemingly touch the sky. The air there is fresh, and streams rush through the serene valleys. Clouds and mist swirl among the green mountains, creating a magical landscape. The valleys stretch endlessly, connecting with the purple aura of the heavens, and the towering peaks form a blessed land. In 1036 when vegetation had withered, however, SU Shi was born in this fairyland. For his birth, the stars turned in the sky, and the weather fluctuated between extremes. SU Shi embodied the eight virtues, remaining humble and modest, as gentle as jade. He excelled in the imperial examinations across eight regions, becoming the third-ranked scholar. So gallant was the young SU Shi, a brave hunter, with yellow hounds on his left hand and a hawk on his right hand, full of vigor and ambition, gazing northwest, who determined to shoot down the Sirius in the sky. SU Shi conversed late into the night with his younger brother Zi-You about how he had flown to the Moon Palace, like a celestial being wearing the divine feathered garments and leaving sacred traces in the temporal world. The star of wisdom shines brightly, as the elegant writings of SU spread far and wide, making him crown the world. Sixty-five years later, SU Shi passed away, though the mountains and rivers returned green.

SU Shi admonished the officials and comforted the people, yet he had to face adversities due to his poems being censored by procurators. Banished out of the purple aura of the capital city, Bianliang, his heart was heavy with worries like clouds shrouding his mind. He was exiled, crossing the Huai River and then for half a decade stranded in a southern town called Huangzhou. Nevertheless, on clear, moonlit nights, he drank and reminisced, feeling as free as an immortal. He cultivated the abandoned land in person, built a hall called Snow, wrote "Postscript on the Festival of Cold Food," and with bleak light studied the "The Book of Changes." He sighed over "Ode to the Red Cliffs," drank by the river, and composed poems, like a once mighty hero became a part of the past, a spear in hand nonetheless. How beautiful and picturesque the landscapes are! Alas, from then on, SU Shi transformed into Hermit Dong-Po. He roamed freely among the mountains and rivers, living like an old man in the wilderness, mingling with woodcutters and fishermen, no longer burdened by worldly affairs. He raised his cup and sang with the universe, treasuring the fire seeds of cultural heritage, forgetting the good or evil in the outer world. He considered hell as heaven, finding peace wherever he was, and could face any wind or storm with equanimity.

Let's look at the situation when Su Shi was further exiled to a farther southern town called Huizhou. In the vast, desolate sunset, he lived a tough life though, but he often mocked his plight for amusement. Despite his low official rank, he never forgot his duty to care for the country and the people. In the countryside, he worried about the well-being of the common folk, repaired bridges, built embankments, and requested tax reductions. He understood the hardships of the farmers, sympathized with the low-status persons, and personally treated illnesses and dispensed medicine. The suffering of citizens always tugged at his heart, and his conscience frequently made him sigh. Even though he was deported to a remote place, his heart remained bright and upright, demonstrating his noble mind.

Alas, a phoenix may rest in the courtyard now but then might freely soar in the vast sky. During the journey in exile, his ears enjoyed tranquility, and his heart beat with the beautiful scenery. Though he wandered like a floating lotus, residing in desolate places, his mind remained peaceful and carefree. In his dreams, he had returned to Hangzhou, savoring rustic brew with a hazy, drunken gaze amidst the spring scenery of Mount Luofu.

The coastal town, Danzhou, had been in wild from the ancient times, but the civilization began to sprout with the arrival of SU Dong-po. He, with his serene disposition, often carried wine and smiled, saying that the universe exists within rivers, lakes, and seas, that the alleged Nine Continents exist in the boundless main, and that the Four Grandios Seas hug China in embrace. He enjoyed the delicious lychees and the legendary mood of riding whales over the waves around the vast sea. Tutored by nature, his writing was filled with enchanting charm. In this small coastal town of Danzhou, he established the Dong-Po Academy, where the sound of reading echoed as if it could move the heavens and earth. From then on, the island of Hainan where Danzhou is located had its scholars, the cultural veins of the land extended, and the barren wilderness ended up.

How sad it was when a beautiful woman had died young, and now only he, a grey-haired man, was in the void mirror, also fading away like dew at sunset. WANG Fu, gentle and serene, faintly manifested her graceful silhouette under the dim light. Ten years passed since her death, a dire spell that separated lovers, one still alive but one dead. Afterward, WANG Run-Zhi managed the household but endured the pain of burning off his lyrical works, so only a few old manuscripts left. Only Chao Yun could understand him, but as the house became empty, he became wasting away. Grass grew on the solitary grave, accompanied by the lake, and he suffered from the separation between life and death, feeling as if everything was a fleeting dream. His thoughts are endless and boundless, like butterflies longing for flowers, sending his love to the other side of the heavens.

The waves of Mount Mei surged mightily, leaving a fragrance in the path of carriages and horses. He paid little attention to his appearance and did not conform to conventional norms. Horses neighed on high ridges, and he lived in a humble house, harboring the ambition of action and the patience of retreat. The official career did not tolerate his talents and made his gift a burden. His fame brought slander, and his forthrightness invited prejudice; truly, the vicissitudes of fortune are unpredictable. His talents are outstanding, his writings and poems exquisite, his spirit grand and unrestrained. Well-versed and smart, he infused a poetical vibe into his lyrics, his words conveying a sense of the uncertain life. His paintings and calligraphy capture the essence of withered trees and strange rocks, and ingrained in his heart are thoughts of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. Was he drunk? Mad? Dreaming? His great mind created wonders on earth, his vigor overwhelming, standing alone through the ages, transcending all time!

December 13, 2023, on Mount West of Beijing