I stood in Yejun and saw the River Zhang
Go gliding by。 I thought no mon human
Ever rose from such a place。 Or he was great
In war; a poet; or an artist skilled。
Perchance a model minister; or son;
Or famous for fraternal duty shown。
The thoughts of heroes are not ours to judge;
Nor are their actions for our eyes to see。
A man may stand the first in merit; then
His crimes may brand him chief of criminals。
And so his reputations fair and foul;
His literary gifts may bear the mark
Of genius; he may be a ruler born;
But this is certain: He will stand above
His fellows; herding not with mon people。
Takes he the field; then is he bold in fight;
Would he a mansion build; a palace springs。
In all things great; his genius masters him。
And such was Cao Cao。 He could never be
Obedient; he a rebel was; foredoomed。
He seized and ruled; but hungered for more power;
Became a prince; and still was not content。
And yet this man of glorious career
When gripped by sickness; wept as might a child。
Full well he knew; when on the bed of death;
That all is vanity and nothing worth。
His latest acts were kindly。 Simple gifts
Of fragrant incense gave he to the maids。
Ah! The ancients splendid deeds or secret thoughts
We may not measure with our puny rule。
But criticize them; pedants; as ye may