A second letter presented再獻啓
1The man of purpose grudges the shortness of the day, and the man of sorrow knows the length of the night
某啓。某今月五日。謹以所學篇章五通。貢于賓次。雖慙獻豕。輒覬攀龍脩客路以心摧。望仁風以目斷。乍覩秦雲之態。或似美人。細看燕石之姿。恐爲棄物。伏蒙司徒相公光逾愛日。煦及寒灰。念以遠別海隅。久沈江徼。特垂豐餼。俾濟朝飢。自驚樗櫟之材。已荷稻粱之惠。雖龜魚投水。驟喜命蘇。而蚤蝨負山。深憂力敗。且某也ꟙ絲雖絡。蛛網自營。萬計尋思。不如學也。百年勤苦。猶恐失之。所以未競宦塗。但遵儒道。筮仕而懶趨塵土。卜居而貪憶林泉。人間之要路通津。眼無開處。物外之靑山綠水。夢有歸時。所願更淬鉛刀。終求鐵印。斂跡而銓藏學藪。安身而跌宕詞林。嘗誦古詩。還符此意。云志士惜日短。愁人知夜長。某旣懷志士之勤。又抱愁人之苦。聊憑毫牘。敢述肺肝。且如蹋壁冥搜。杜門寂坐。席冷而窓風擺雪。筆乾而硯水成氷。欲爲尼父之絶編。無奈羲和之促轡。卽可知指萬卷之經史。恨三冬之景光。及其凍枕傷神。孤燈伴影。寒漏則滴殘別淚。遙碪則擣破羈心。空勞甯戚之悲歌。莫繼陸機之安寢。亦可想貯千端之鬱邑。過五夜之寂寥。然則志士之勤也旣如彼。愁人之苦也又如此。況某家遙日域。路隔天池。投客舍而方甚死讎。持何門而欲安生計。唯慮道之將廢。豈言人不易知。不敢以陋質凡姿。覲相公淸嚴之德。不敢以片言隻字。希相公採錄之恩。所望者。或以其萬里地遠來。十餘年苦學。稍垂惻憫。得濟困窮。則必堅背水之心。終爲勇士決。移山之志。不讓愚公。伏以某譯殊方之語言。學聖代之章句。舞態則難爲短袖。辯詞則未比長裾。舌無三寸之能。空緘壯氣。腸有九回之懇。但戀深恩干浼尊嚴。下情無任感戴兢惶涕泗之至。謹啓。
So-and-so states this. On the fifth of this month I respectfully offered five pieces of the writings I have studied, laying them before the guests' place. Though I was ashamed to be offering a pig, I hoped all the same to take hold of a dragon. Walking the guest's road, my heart was broken. Looking toward the kindly wind, my eyes gave out. At a glance the shape of the clouds of Qin seemed like a beautiful woman. Looked at closely, the form of the stone of Yan I feared would be a thing thrown away. I humbly received from his lordship the Minister over the Masses a light brighter than the sun that men cherish, and a warmth that reached cold ashes. Thinking that I had parted far from the corner of the sea and had long sunk at the river frontier, he sent down an ample gift of food and let me be saved from morning hunger. I am startled of myself that timber of ailanthus and oak has already received the kindness of rice and millet. Though a turtle and a fish thrown into water are suddenly glad that life revives, a flea and a louse carrying a mountain deeply fear that their strength will fail. And though my thread is tangled, I spin my own web. I search through ten thousand plans, and none is like learning. A hundred years of toil, and still I fear to lose it. That is why I have not striven on the road of office and only follow the Way of the scholars. I divine for office, yet I am slow to run to the dust. I divine for a dwelling, and greedily remember the woods and springs. For the high roads and open fords of the world of men, my eyes have nowhere to open. For the green hills and blue waters beyond all things, my dreams have a time of returning. What I want is to temper the lead knife again and seek an iron seal in the end, to draw in my traces and store myself in the thicket of learning, and to settle my body and range freely in the forest of letters. I once recited an old poem, and it matched this thought. It says, "The man of purpose grudges the shortness of the day, and the man of sorrow knows the length of the night." I hold in me the diligence of the man of purpose, and I hold too the bitterness of the man of sorrow. So I lean on brush and tablet and dare to set out my lungs and liver. I tread the wall in blind search. I shut the gate and sit in silence. The mat is cold, and the wind at the window shakes the snow. The brush is dry, and the water in the inkstone turns to ice. I would wear through the binding cords as Confucius did, but what can I do with Xihe urging on the reins? One may know from this how, pointing to ten thousand scrolls of classics and histories, I grudge the light of the three winter months. Then the frozen pillow hurts my spirit, and a lone lamp keeps my shadow company. The cold water clock drips out the last tears of parting. The far fulling block pounds my traveler's heart to pieces. In vain I labor at the sad song of Ning Qi. I cannot follow Lu Ji into quiet sleep. One may also imagine how I store up a thousand kinds of gloom and pass the five watches of the night in loneliness. That being so, the diligence of the man of purpose is such as that, and the bitterness of the man of sorrow is such as this. Still more, my home is far off in the land of the sun, and the road is cut off by the pool of heaven. Throwing myself into a guest house is now worse than a mortal enemy. By what gate shall I settle the means of living? I only fear that the Way is about to be abandoned. How should I say that it is not easy for others to know me? I dare not with mean stuff and common looks come before his lordship's pure and strict virtue. I dare not with a scrap of speech and a single word hope for his lordship's kindness in taking me up. What I hope is this. If, because I have come far from a land ten thousand li away and have studied hard for more than ten years, he lets a little pity come down and I am saved from want, then I will surely harden a heart that has its back to the river and be resolved to the end as a brave soldier is. In the will to move a mountain I will not yield to Yu Gong. I humbly say that I translate the speech of a strange region and study the phrases of a holy age. In dancing, short sleeves make it hard. In argument, I am no match for a long robe. My tongue has no three inches of power, and my brave spirit is sealed up in vain. My bowels have nine turns of earnestness, and I long only for his deep kindness. I trouble and stain his dignity. My humble heart cannot bear the fullness of its gratitude for his kindness, its dread and its tears. Respectfully submitted.