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In large volume, those flowing waters, |
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Go to the court of the sea. |
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Rapid is that flying falcon, |
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Now soaring, now resting. |
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Alas! among my brethren, |
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My countrymen, my friends, |
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No one is willing to think of the prevailing disorder; |
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[But] who has not parents [to suffer from it]? |
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In large volume, those flowing waters, |
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Roll on their swollen flood. |
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Rapid is that flying falcon, |
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Now soaring, now rising higher. |
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When I think of those lawless men, |
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Now I rise up, now I walk about. |
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The sorrow of my heart, |
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Cannot be repressed nor forgotten. |
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Rapid is that flying falcon, |
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Yet he keeps along the middle of the height. |
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The talk of the people, -- |
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Is there no means of stopping it? |
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If my friends would reverently [watch over themselves], |
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Would slanderous speeches be made? |
Published
by The Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities, © Copyright 2003
by Anne Kinney and the University of Virginia