Each entry gives the term in traditional and simplified form, its pinyin, the senses it carries in the classical corpus, the passages where it does real work, and how published translations have rendered it.
xié qì huà rì
The verdict for a year in which one qi got the better of another and the other answered: 乙丑、乙未歲。上太陰土，中少商金運，下太陽水。熱化寒化，勝復同，所謂邪氣化日也. Six of the sixty years are so marked, and each is marked for the same reason — 勝復同, prevalence and revenge the same. The word is the chapter's harshest: 邪 is the graph for qi that is off its line, and a year so judged is one in which the calendar's own arithmetic shows the year doing something other than what its qi was charged to do. It is the 變 of 六化六變 written into a single year.
xié qì huà dù
Nine of the sixty years end 邪氣化度也: 丁丑、丁未歲。上太陰土，中少角木運，下太陽水，清化熱化勝，復同，邪氣化度也. Each of the nine carries 勝復同 in the sentence before it, exactly as the six 邪氣化日-rows do; the difference between the two groups is only the word the table chooses to close them with. Taken with the 十九 upright measures, the four verdicts between them close forty-five of the sixty years, which is why the chapter can end its table with 勝復正化，皆有常數，不可不察.
jiā lín
How the year's qi comes to rest on the year's circuit. 下加 is the 在泉 qi adding from below, as in 甲辰、甲戌，太宫下加太陰 or 癸巳、癸亥，少徴下加少陽; 上臨 is the 司天 qi approaching from above, as in 戊子、戊午，太徴上臨少陰. The chapter lists six of each and then asks what they mean: a year in which the added qi agrees with the circuit is a 天符 if the circuit is in excess, a 歲會 if it is short, and the degree of agreement — 變行有多少，病形有微甚，生死有早晏 — decides how hard the year falls. The two words are therefore the mechanism behind the table's verdicts, not a separate doctrine.
zhèng huà rì
The verdict a year gets when the qi that governs it does its own work without being opposed: 甲辰歲。上太陽水，中太宫土運，下太陰土，寒化六，濕化五，正化日也. The word is used eleven times, always at the end of a run of numbers that count what each of the three qi turned into, and always in opposition to 邪氣化日, which is said of the years where 勝復同 — where one qi prevails and the other takes its revenge, so that the transformation is not the year's own. The table's arithmetic is the chapter's answer to the opening question about 六化: this is 化 seen in the calendar, one year at a time.
zhèng huà dù
The verdict reached by counting. Nineteen of the sixty years end 正化度也, nine end 邪氣化度也: 庚辰、庚戌歲。上太陽水，中太商金運，下太陰土。寒化一，清化九，雨化五，正化度也. The difference between 日 and 度 is not in the meaning — both say whether the year's transformation is the upright one — but in how it is arrived at. The 日-rows judge the year by its 化; the 度-rows judge it by the numbers those 化 produce, which is why the word appears where the table is at its most arithmetical. The closing line of the table gathers both: 凡此定期之紀，勝復正化，皆有常數.
píng qì
Qibo's answer to the question of 平氣 takes one clause: 無過者也 — that which does not go past. In a chapter where everything is counted and timed, the healthy case is defined negatively, as the absence of overstepping. It is one of the shortest definitions in the Suwen, and the whole of the chapter's medicine hangs on it: know the season, know whether the qi came, and you know which of the three you are looking at.
chéng
What comes after a qi and holds it down. Asked why each of the six positions has something beneath it, Qi Bo answers with the sentence the tradition never let go of: 亢則害，承乃制，制則生化 — when a thing is excessive there is harm; what bears it down then restrains it; with restraint there is generation and transformation. The six cases make the rule concrete: water under minister fire, earth under water, wind under earth, metal under wind, fire under metal, and the yin essence under sovereign fire. Without the restraint, 害則敗亂, ruin and disorder, and generation and transformation are gravely ill.
hè xī
Fire going to excess. 火曰赫曦 — fire is called blazing sunlight — and its 紀 is 蕃茂: 赫曦之紀，是謂蕃茂。陰氣内化，陽氣外榮，炎暑施化，物得以昌. The yin transforms within, the yang blooms without, the scorching heat spreads its transformations, and the things of the world come up thick — the excess of fire is told as a prosperity, because that is what it looks like from outside. Its attributes: 其化長，其氣高，其政動，其令鳴顯，其動炎灼妄擾…其象夏，其經手少陰、太陽，手厥陰、少陽，其藏心、肺…其病笑瘧、瘡瘍，血流，狂妄，目赤. Its viscera are the heart and the lung, the phase it overcomes with the phase it is; the illnesses are the blaze turned inward — laughing, malaria, sores, blood running, madness, red eyes. And where the short fire hides, this one ends by touching even the note it answers: 上羽與正徴同，其收齊，其病痓, and the reaping qi comes back late against it.
fā shēng
Wood going to excess. 木曰發生 — wood is called bursting growth — and its 紀 is 啓㪝: 發生之紀，是謂啓㪝。土疏泄，蒼氣達，陽和布化，陰氣乃隨，生氣淳化，萬物以榮. The earth loosens and gives way, the green qi reaches through, the yang's harmony spreads its transformations, the yin follows after, and the growing qi thickens everything into bloom. Its attributes are the excess form of the paragraph: 其化生，其氣美，其政散，其令條舒，其動掉眩巔疾，其德鳴靡啓坼，其變振拉摧拔…其象春，其經足厥陰少陽，其藏肝脾，其蟲毛介…其病怒. Where the even circuit's viscus is the liver alone, this one's is 肝脾, liver and spleen together — the excess of wood reaches the earth it overcomes. And where the even and short paragraphs end by saying which phase the circuit turns into, this group ends instead on the harm: 邪乃傷肝, 秋天's reaping comes back against it, and the trees wither.
shěng
A blight that falls, and in this chapter always a blight that falls *somewhere*: 其眚東、其眚南、其眚四維、其眚西、其眚北. It is paired with 災 throughout, and the two are not the same word — 災 is the disaster, and 眚 is where and on whom it lands. Each of the five passages that give it a direction goes on to give the viscus and the places the illness lodges in, so that a direction, an organ, and an outside are named together: wood falling short has its calamity in the east, its viscus the liver, its illness within in the flanks and without in the joints. The graph began as a film over the eye, and the sense of a visitation that spoils came from that.
biàn
The second half of 物生謂之化，物極謂之變, and the half that makes the sentence a warning. A thing's being generated is transformation; a thing's arrival at its extreme is change. The chapter then uses the word exactly that way: 動靜相召，上下相臨，陰陽相錯，而變由生也 — when motion and stillness call to one another, the upper and the lower press on one another, and yin and yang cross, change arises out of it. Change is not growth; it is what growth produces when it has gone as far as it can.
guī jǔ héng quán
Chapter 17's way of saying that a pulse has a shape appropriate to its season: spring answers to the compasses (round and smooth), summer to the square (full and square), autumn to the balance beam (level and light), winter to the weight (sunken and heavy). The four instruments are the vocabulary of a workshop applied to a wrist: each season's pulse is not merely different in degree, it is different in kind, and each can be measured against its own instrument. The pair 權衡 recurs elsewhere in the book as weighing in the abstract sense of judging.