  THE KING GOES TO WARThe wild geese fly the bushy oaks around, With clamor loud. Suh-suh their wings resound, As for their feet poor resting-place is found. The King's affairs admit of no delay. Our millet still unsown, we haste away. No food is left our parents to supply; When we are gone, on whom can they rely? O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar, When shall our homes receive us from the war? The wild geese on the bushy jujube-trees Attempt to settle and are ill at ease;— Suh-suh their wings go flapping in the breeze. The King's affairs admit of no delay; Our millet still unsown, we haste away. How shall our parents their requirements get? How in our absence shall their wants be met? O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar, When shall our homes receive us from the war? The bushy mulberry-trees the geese in rows Seek eager and to rest around them close— With rustling loud, as disappointment grows. To plant our rice and maize we cannot stay. How shall our parents find their wonted food? When we are gone, who will to them be good? O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar, When shall our homes receive us from the war? LAMENT OF A BEREAVED PERSONA russet pear-tree rises all alone, But rich the growth of leaves upon it shown! I walk alone, without one brother left, And thus of natural aid am I bereft. Plenty of people there are all around, But none like my own father's sons are found. Ye travellers, who forever hurry by, Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye? No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;— Why not perform for me the helping deed? A russet pear-tree rises all alone, But rich with verdant foliage o'ergrown. I walk alone, without one brother's care, To whom I might, amid my straits repair. Plenty of people there are all around, But none like those of my own name are found. Ye travellers, who forever hurry by, Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye? No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;— Why not perform for me the helping deed? THE DRAWBACKS OF POVERTYOn the left of the way, a russet pear-tree Stands there all alone—a fit image of me. There is that princely man! O that he would come, And in my poor dwelling with me be at home! In the core of my heart do I love him, but say, Whence shall I procure him the wants of the day? At the bend in the way a russet pear-tree Stands there all alone—a fit image of me. There is that princely man! O that he would come, And rambling with me be himself here at home! In the core of my heart I love him, but say, Whence shall I procure him the wants of the day? A WIFE MOURNS FOR HER HUSBANDThe dolichos grows and covers the thorn, O'er the waste is the dragon-plant creeping. The man of my heart is away and I mourn— What home have I, lonely and weeping? Covering the jujubes the dolichos grows, The graves many dragon-plants cover; But where is the man on whose breast I'd repose? No home have I, having no lover! Fair to see was the pillow of horn, And fair the bed-chamber's adorning; But the man of my heart is not here, and I mourn All alone, and wait for the morning. And long winter nights leave their traces, I'm alone! Till a hundred of years shall have fled, And then I shall meet his embraces. Through the long winter nights I am burdened with fears, Through the long summer days I am lonely; But when time shall have counted its hundreds of years I then shall be his—and his only! |
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