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The fibres from the white flowered rush, |
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Are bound with the white grass. |
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This man's sending me away, |
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Makes me dwell solitary. |
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The light and brilliant clouds, |
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Bedew the rush and the grass. |
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The way of Heaven is hard and difficult; -- |
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This man does nto confirm [to good principle]. |
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How the water from the pools flows away to north, |
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Flooding the rice fields! |
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I whistle and sing with wounded heart, |
|
Thinking of that great man. |
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They gather firewood of branches of the mulberry trees, |
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And I burn them [only] in a [small] furnace. |
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That great man, |
|
Does indeed toil and trouble my heart. |
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Their drums and bells are beaten in the palace, |
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And their sound is heard without. |
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All-sorrowful I think of him; -- |
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He thinks of me without any regard. |
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The marabou is on the dam; |
|
The [common] crane is in the forest. |
|
That great man, |
|
Does indeed toil and trouble my heart. |
|
The Yellow ducks are on the dams, |
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With their left wings gathered up. |
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That man is bad, |
|
Ever varying in his conduct. |
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How thin is that slab of stone! |
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He that stands on it is low. |
|
That man's sending me away, |
|
Makes me full of affliction. |
Published
by The Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities, © Copyright 2003
by Anne Kinney and the University of Virginia