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Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng

Yuzhang, the old capital, Hongdu, the new mansion. Stars divide the wings of the chariot, the land connects Heng and Lu. Embracing the three rivers and adorned with five lakes, controlling the Miao and Jing and drawing in Ouyue. The beauty of nature and treasures of heaven, the dragon's light shines on the market of the Ox and the Dipper; the talents of men and the spirit of the land, Xu Ru visits the couch of Chen Fan. The mist of Xiongzhou gathers, the talents race like stars. The terrace rests at the junction of the Yi and Xia, hosts and guests enjoy the beauty of the southeast. The esteemed reputation of Governor Yan, the ceremonial spear arrives from afar; the admirable example of Yuwen Xinzhou, the curtain temporarily halts. Ten festivals for vacation, friends like clouds; a thousand miles of greetings, esteemed guests fill the seats. Soaring dragons and rising phoenixes, the words of Scholar Meng; purple lightning and blue frost, the arsenal of General Wang. My father serves as the governor, the road leads to a famous district; what does a young boy know, personally attending a grand farewell.

In the ninth month, the season belongs to autumn. The water has receded and the cold pond is clear, the mist gathers and the evening mountains turn purple. Majestically riding on the high road, seeking scenery at Chong'a; on the long isle of the Emperor, finding the old mansion of the heavenly man. Layered peaks rise green, reaching the heavy sky; flying pavilions flow with red, descending to the groundless. The crane's shore and the duck's islet, winding around the islands; the palace of osmanthus and the hall of orchids, embodying the shape of the hills.

With embroidered eaves, overlooking the carved ridge, the mountains and plains are vast in view, the rivers and marshes winding in sight. The lanes and halls are bustling, the sound of bells and the food of the family; ships and boats crowd the ferry, the blue sparrow and yellow dragon at the prow. Clouds disperse and rain clears, colors brighten the vast sky. The setting sun and the lone duck fly together, the autumn waters blend with the long sky. Fishing boats sing in the evening, the sound echoes along the banks of Pengli; the wild geese startle in the cold, the sound breaks at Hengyang's shore.

With a relaxed mind, my thoughts soar. The refreshing breeze arises with the clear wind, the gentle song lingers and the white clouds are restrained. The green bamboo of Suiyuan, the air surpasses the cup of Pengze; the red flowers of Yeshu, the light shines on the pen of Linchuan. All four beauties are present, both difficulties coexist. Exhaustively gazing at the sky, fully enjoying leisure days. The sky is high and the earth is vast, feeling the infinity of the universe; joy ends in sorrow, recognizing the numbers of fullness and emptiness. Looking towards Chang'an under the sun, gazing at Wu and Hui among the clouds. The land is extreme and the southern sea is deep, the sky pillar is high and the northern star is far. The mountains and rivers are hard to cross, who mourns the lost traveler? Meeting by chance, all are guests from other lands. Longing for the emperor's gate but not seeing, how many years has it been since the proclamation hall?

Alas! Times are not equal, destinies are full of twists. Feng Tang grows old easily, Li Guang is hard to seal. Qu Jiaqi in Changsha, not without a wise ruler; exiled Liang Hong in Haiqu, is there a lack of bright times? What relies on is that gentlemen see opportunities, and wise men know their fate. The old should grow stronger, would one change their heart at white hair? In poverty, grow stronger, not falling from the ambition of the blue sky. Drinking from the spring of greed feels refreshing, staying in the dry rut still brings joy. Though the North Sea is distant, the soaring winds can reach; the eastern corner has passed, the mulberry and elm are not late. Meng Chang is noble and pure, leaving only the feelings of serving the country; Ruan Ji is wild and unruly, would he imitate the cries of the lost path?

Ah! A life of three feet, a mere scholar. No way to ask for a favor, like the young Jun of Zhongjun; with aspirations to throw the brush, admiring the long wind of Zongquan. Abandoning the official cap for a hundred years, serving morning and evening for thousands of miles. Not the treasured tree of the Xie family, connecting with the fragrant neighbor of the Meng family. Another day visiting the court, I dare to accompany the carp; today holding the sleeves, joyfully entrusting to the Dragon Gate. Not meeting Yang, cherishing the clouds and lamenting; having met Zhongqi, what shame in playing the flowing water?

Oh! The beautiful place is not constant, the grand feast is hard to repeat; Lanting is gone, the tomb of Zize is in ruins. Parting words, fortunately receiving grace from the great farewell; climbing high to compose a poem, is what is expected from the group. Daring to exhaust my humble heart, respectfully writing a short preface; each word is assigned, all four rhymes are completed. Please pour out the Pan River, each pouring into the land and sea:

The high pavilion of Tengwang overlooks the riverbank, adorned with jade, the sound of the phoenix ceases its song and dance.

The painted beams fly southward in the morning clouds, the pearl curtains roll up the western mountain rain in the evening.

Leisurely clouds and pond reflections, the sun drifts slowly; things change and stars move, how many autumns have passed.

Where is the emperor's son in the pavilion now? Outside the railing, the Yangtze River flows on its own.

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