Huangfu Xiaoyan 480涓囧瓧 642983浜鸿杩 杩炶浇
銆娋犯@磺
In the last month of summer, the sun is in the willow, the fire is in the dusk, and the Kui is in the morning. The days are Bing and Ding. Its emperor is Yan Emperor, and its god is Zhurong. Its insects are feathers. Its sound is Zheng, and its rhythm is Lin Zhong. Its number is seven. Its taste is bitter, and its smell is burnt. Its offering is to the stove and the lungs. The warm wind begins to arrive, crickets live on the wall, eagles learn, and rotten grass becomes fireflies. The emperor resides in the right side of Mingtang, rides on a red road, drives a red horse, carries a red flag, wears a red robe, and wears red jade. He eats beans and chickens, and his utensils are high and coarse. He orders fishermen to kill dragons and catch alligators, and climb turtles and catch sea turtles. He orders marsh people to collect wood and reeds.
Zixia had just finished mourning and came to see me. I played the zither, but it didn't harmonize, and it didn't make any sound when I played it. He stood up and said, "I have not forgotten my grief. The ancient kings established the rites, and I dare not go beyond them."
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