Classic Poem

My king summoned this sick and aged body
and dispatched me as a shipmaster.
Thus do I travel down to Pusan
in the sultry summer month of the ŭlsa year.
Sick as I am, I dare not sit still
in this gateway, the strategic portal.
Wearing a long sword aslant
boldly I step aboard the warship,
muster my courage,
and stare with scorn at Tsushima.
The yellow clouds that chase the winds
are gathered up here, gathered up there,
and the dim green waves
and the endless sky are one.
I wander about on the ship
recalling the past;
my foolish mind
reproaches the Yellow Emperor.
Since the boundless sea
surrounds heaven and earth,
what barbarians will cross
myriad miles of winds and waves
and dare to encroach upon our shores?
Why on earth did people
learn to build ships?
Throughout the ages,
everywhere under heaven,
they have become an endless evil,
fostering sorrow in the people's heart.
Ah, I realize now
it is the First Emperor's fault.
Granted that ships had to be made,
if the Japanese were not bred there,
would empty ships have started out
for Tsushima by themselves?
The First Emperor believed in empty words
and sent maidens and boys to solitary isles
to procure the pills of immortality.
Thus he spawned unruly bandits
on those islands
and brought great indignation and shame
upon the Middle Kingdom.
How many immortality pills
did he obtain,
and did they bring him a life
long as the Great Wall he built?
He, too, was a mortal,
I cannot see what he gained.
When I consider the matter carefully,
Hsü Shih and his like went too far.
Could he seek refuge elsewhere
as a loyal subject?
He did not see the spirits;
but had he returned,
our naval men
would not have lamented at all.
Forget them all!
No use blaming the past.
Let's stop this idle dispute
between right and wrong.
Calmly, I meditate:
I was too obstinate.
The shipbuilding of the Yellow Emperor
was not so bad after all.
Had there been no ships,
how could Chang Han rouse his spirits
when the autumn breeze caresses him,
how could he return south of the river,
when the sky is clear and the sea broad?
How can a fisherman travel
without a boat
to enjoy his life free as duckweed,
a life better than that of three dukes,
among matchless hills and waters?
Judging from these,
a system of ships
seems worthy of praise.
And why should we not be elated
sitting astride a darting boat
day and night
as we sing of the moon fronting the winds?
In olden days
wine tables crowded ships;
today,
only large swords and long spears.
A ship it is,
but not as ships once were.
Therefore sorrow and joy,
too, differ.
From time to time
I gaze at the polestar;
the tears of an old man
deplore the age.
Our civilization
is bright as Han, T'ang, and Sung.
But fortune deserted our dynasty,
and the crafty designs of pirates
made us harbor lasting regrets.
We've not yet wiped out this shame,
not even one hundredth.
However incapable,
I am your subject.
The way of success being different today,
I have grown old without serving at your side.
But my anxious heart
is always with you.
Firmness of will and apprehension for my country
grow stronger as I grow old.
Insignificant and ill
as I am,
when can I cleanse this shame
and redress this grief?
The dead Chu-ko Liang
chased the living Ssu-ma I,
and the limbless Sun Pin
captured P'ang Chüan.
How then should I —
Still alive, four limbs intact —
should I fear
thieves of mice and dogs?
When I charge the enemy ships,
descend upon them,
they'll be fallen leaves
in frosty winds.
By freeing them and seizing them seven times
we too will succeed like Chu-ko Liang.
O wriggling island savages,
beg quickly for surrender!
You know those who yield are set free —
so yield now and avoid disaster.
The eminent virtues of our king
dictate that all men live together.
In a peaceful world,
we live under another sage ruler,
with his virtues
bright as the sun and moon.
And we who have ridden on battle ships
will soon sing in a fishing boat
in autumn moon and spring breeze,
and laying our heads on high pillows,
we'll see once more the happy era
when all the waters sing in unison.