介绍:
Presented to Bi Yao
Talent great, now poetry’s senior,
household poor, you suffer a humble post.
Hungry and cold, treated as low as a servant,
by your complexion, an old man.
Alas, who of the same temper prizes you?—
discussing writing, you laugh that you naturally understand.
But in passing on Jiang Yan’s and Bao Zhao’s styles
I note that we both have avoided being without a son.
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