If once together with the wind the roc could rise,
He would fly ninety thousand li up to the skies.
E’en if he must descend when the wind has abated,
Still billows will be raised and the sea agitated.
Seeing me, those in power think I’m rather queer;
Hearing me freely talk, they can’t refrain from sneer.
Confucius was in dread of talents that would be;
A sage will ne’er look down upon a youth like me.