In times of yore, all things born of heaven sustain the folk,
Yet the folk bear no deeds worthy to heaven's yoke.
Unseen, locusts and pests swarm the wide realm's reach,
Innocent subjects and royal lords, their plights beseech.
In this world, birth gives rise to rank and station,
The favored bask in heaven's own adoration.
Wealth and nobility are the divine decree,
The poverty of the commoners, heaven's stern decree.
Suddenly, madmen sharpen their blades under the moon's soft glow,
The Emperor's star quivers, while Mars ascends on high.
The world, from this moment, turns topsy-turvy and slow,
Why spare effort when it's time to bid life goodbye?
The disloyal, say, ought to meet their fate!
The undutiful, too, let them not abate!
The unkind, the unjust, and those who deviate,
The mighty King of the West, proclaims their dire state!
I was not born to chase after fleeting fame,
No gilded palace in the capital shall bear my name.
Top scholars and officials, all the same,
Shall meet my blade, their fortune and their fame.
I command my four royal sons from on high,
No need to seal with dagger or knife.
On this mountaintop, this stone shall testify,
Those who defy heaven shall surely die!
