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In the fourth month comes summer, |
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And in the sixth month the heat begins to decrease. |
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Were not my forefathers men? |
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How can they endure that I should be [thus]? |
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The autumn days become cold, |
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And the plants all decay. |
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Amid such distress of disorder and dispersion, |
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Whither can I betake myself? |
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The winter days are very fierce, |
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And the storm blows in rapid gusts. |
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People all are happy; |
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Why do I alone suffer this misery? |
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On the mountain are fine trees, -- |
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Chestnut trees and plum trees. |
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Of their degenerating into ravening thieves, |
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I know not the evil cause. |
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Look at the water of that spring, |
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Sometimes clear, sometimes muddy. |
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I am every day coming into contact with misfortune; |
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How can I be happy? |
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Grandly flow the Jiang and the Han, |
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Regulators of the southern States. |
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Worn out as I am with service, |
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He yet takes no notice of me. |
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I am not an eagle nor a hawk, |
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Which flies aloft to heaven. |
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I am not a sturgeon, large or small, |
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Which can dive and hide in the deep. |
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On the hills are the turtle-foot and thorn ferns; |
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In the marshes are the medlar and the yi. |
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I, an officer, have made this song, |
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To make known my plaint. |
Published
by The Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities, © Copyright 2003
by Anne Kinney and the University of Virginia