Prayer for the fast on the Yingtian Festival, the third應天節齋詞
Gyewon Pilgyeongjip (A Plowing of the Brush in the Cassia Garden) 桂苑筆耕集 · Choe Chiwon · 886 (Tang, 6th year of the Zhonghe era · Silla, 12th year of King Heongang) · 1 passages · 148 Chinese characters · reading time 0.6 min
Gyewon Pilgyeongjip (A Plowing of the Brush in the Cassia Garden) Book 15 — Prayer Texts A collection Choe Chiwon made by choosing out of the writings of his four years in the headquarters of Gao Pian, military commissioner of Huainan under the Tang, binding them into twenty volumes and presenting them to King Heongang of Silla in 886. It holds 366 pieces — memorials and reports sent up to the emperor, the proclamation denouncing Huang Chao, letters to the several military commissioners, orders and dispatches issued to those under him, Daoist and Buddhist texts for services, funeral offerings, records written for the outer wall of Chengdu and for a painting of Annam, and the reports and poems he sent up to Gao Pian. Here is the first report, which begins "I am a man of Silla," and the proclamation against Huang Chao with its line, "Not only do all the men of the world think to kill you openly; the ghosts under the earth have already discussed cutting you down in secret." The last volume holds the poems he made on the voyage home to the country he had left at twelve. It is the oldest collection by a Korean that survives, and when Hong Seokju and Seo Yugu printed it with movable type in 1834 they called it "the root and the beginning of the writing of our Eastern Country." Their two prefaces are translated with it.
I bow and consider that the white deer of Laixiang has already hung up the traces of an immortal, and that the purple cloud of Hangu has indeed given rise to the air of kingship. Blessing is heaped up while heaven lasts and earth endures, and the leaf is handed on to sage sons and divine grandsons. It lights up the Jade Capital, and our house of Li is in lasting spring. It unrolls the golden register, and Zhuangchun flourishes without end. I bow and think of His Majesty the Emperor. He takes his virtue from the three that have no form, and he spreads his kindness over all that exists. He matches the omen of the one who was moved by a star and the one who dreamed of the sun, and he surpasses the sign of the four breasts and the eight eyebrows. High heaven sent down a sage, and he rode the wind that loosens anger. The ranks of officers keep the fast, and still more, the month of late shade (晏陰) has come. I humbly wish that Mount Kongtong follow its course, and that the imperial carriage turn back at the Fen. Let him meet the cry of ten thousand years from the cliffs, and return to the heavenly gate of the ninefold palace. Let him enjoy a fair fortune of seven hundred years, and let all the world be restored. Let the maxims of the five thousand words be kept, and let warfare be wholly settled. Looking up, I pray for the gaze of the dark mirror. Guard the imperial dwelling forever.