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The wild geese are flying about; |
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Su-su goes the rustle of their wings. |
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[There were] those officers engaged on the commission. |
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Pained were we and toiled in the open fields; |
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All were objects of pity, |
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But alas for those wifeless and widows! |
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The wild geese are flying about; |
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And they settle in the midst of the marsh. |
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[There were] those officers directing the rearing of the walls; -- |
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Five thousand cubits of them arose at once. |
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Though there was pain and toil, |
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In the end we had rest in our dwellings. |
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The wild geese are flying about, |
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And melancholy is their cry of ao-ao. |
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There were they, wise men, |
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Who recognized our pain and toil; |
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If they had been stupid men, |
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They would have said we were proclaiming our insolence. |
Published
by The Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities, © Copyright 2003
by Anne Kinney and the University of Virginia