Text for the sacrifice to the god of Mount Chanshan祭巉山神文

Year, month, day. Kim Ingyu, envoy of Silla entering Huainan, acting vice director of the Granaries Bureau, acting Hallim officer, granted the crimson robe and the silver fish bag, and Choe Chiwon, envoy going from Huainan into Silla and bearing the state letter and the rest, formerly inspecting officer of the commander in chief, gentleman for rendering service, palace censor on inner duty, granted the crimson fish bag, and the others, respectfully take an offering of clear wine and sacrificial beasts and present it with reverence to the spirit of the Great King of Mount Chanshan. We quietly consider that long ago, when the square and the round were told apart and the clear and the muddy were first divided, what melted became rivers and seas and what knotted became mountains. Stone bears earth and earth bears stone, and the small are gravelly while the great are rocky. Yet an awesome spirit is rare among them; they are still and without edges, joined to the mounds so that one sees the hills are worth learning from. You alone, O spirit, stand tall and free and look down from on high upon the catfish deep (鯷壑); steep and craggy, you bend down and press upon the whale pool. Above, you are the bones about which cloud and mist wind; below, you are the caves that wave and billow strike and shoot. At dawn you meet the golden crow and come out before it; at night you send off the silver toad and sink behind it. Therefore your lofty virtue is made plain to the eastern Xia and the western Yi, and your dark merit does not lean on Shu of the south or Hu of the north. The loom of the Weaving Maid leans on the River of Heaven and the bridge of the Qin emperor spanned the dark sea, yet they only flaunted their names and could not trouble our forms. It has always been said that you keep hidden a single piece of jade; how should you merely be ranked beside a pair of gems? And so those who go and come reverently reckon your bright spirit, and those who pray pour out all their sincerity. Duckweed and mugwort may well be offered, and truly it is not millet and panic grass that are fragrant. Now Ingyu and the rest have long borne a distant command, and Chiwon for the first time takes up a great embassy. We are glad that the homeward ship is one for us both and we wait to be able to ride side by side. We do not fear that the minds of Hu and Yue differ, and how should we be shamed that the names of Li Ying and Guo Tai were great? In the first winter of last year we came to the east of Dongmou, but the blue current was still far and the dark season was near its end. The shape of the waves piled up so that the fishhawk could not float the ship, and the sound of the wind rushed so that the swan feared to leave its cage. So we moored the hollowed log and for a while set our broken mugwort at rest. The other day, though we met the first month, we still feared the strong wind. We stretched our necks waiting to meet the season's swallows and turned our eyes to send off the last of the homing geese. Now we look for a profitable crossing, and the tortoise agrees and the milfoil accords. Pointing straight at Gyerim, we float light as a mustard leaf. Why should we yield to the hooves of galloping horses? We wish to match the swiftness of the autumn hawk. We have come far to your spirit peak, but your hall of long life is hard to find. We see only the blue lotus dipped upside down in the great water and the green conch standing as a tall pillar in the clear sky. We look up at your awesome spirit rising beyond the dust and think of your shadow and echo fluttering within the clouds. So we have cleansed the food of the offering and chosen what is fat and strong. The wine and the sweet ale are thick and the sacrificial beasts are fairly rich. Respectfully we bring this poor rite and dare to hope for hidden merit. We humbly beg that the Great King will secretly breathe out and in and quietly point the way, that the god of the waves may fold his hands and the lord of the river compose his face, that the south wind of the army of Chu may contend for now and that the eastern road of the earl of Zheng may be cut open and made passable, that the heart of the water mirror may shine and already divide the fair from the foul, and that the mouth of the earthen bag may be split so that male and female are not mixed. Then in a morning we may pierce the boundless and by evening cut through the primal mist. Going to gather stone flowers, we shall surely be as Xie Lingyun; chanting of dried meat as we go, we shall be spared from imitating Zhang Rong. Besides, I look at myself as I stand by the river and grow more fearful as I climb the tree. I remember how of old snow was my light at night and ice my evening drink, and how for some years I strove alone at beating the book box, and today at last I look to fan my parents' pillow. I am about to ask after the silk of Jingzhou and unworthily wear the brocade of Kuaiji. Seeing favor, I am as if startled, and my heart is as though I bore a full vessel. Though my wisdom does not reach far, I go only when the time is right. How much more, bearing the imperial brush, do I fear that the king's journey be delayed. Now the baggage is already arrayed and we have a solemn look of travel. Enjoying the clear light we sing, and on the quiet current we float in an instant. Trusting only to the wind of the Great King, let us soon go back to the land of gentlemen, that we may hand on the emperor's command and not leave the spirit's office empty. Come and partake.