Chinese Literature Part 29

A 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 Poverty~

On 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 Husband~

The 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.

While the long days of summer pa.s.s over my head, 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!

BOOK XI

THE ODES OF TS'IN

~Celebrating the Opulence of the Lords of Ts'in~

Our ruler to the hunt proceeds; And black as iron are his steeds That heed the charioteer's command, Who holds the six reins in his hand.

His favorites follow to the chase, Rejoicing in his special grace.

The season's males, alarmed, arise-- The season's males, of wondrous size.

Driven by the beaters, forth they spring, Soon caught within the hunters' ring.

"Drive on their left," the ruler cries; And to its mark his arrow flies.

The hunting done, northward he goes; And in the park the driver shows The horses' points, and his own skill That rules and guides them at his will.

Light cars whose teams small bells display, The long-and short-mouthed dogs convey.

~A Complaint~

He lodged us in a s.p.a.cious house, And plenteous was our fare.

But now at every frugal meal There's not a sc.r.a.p to spare.

Alas! alas that this good man Could not go on as he began!

~A Wife's Grief Because of Her Husband's Absence~

The falcon swiftly seeks the north, And forest gloom that sent it forth.

Since I no more my husband see, My heart from grief is never free.

O how is it, I long to know, That he, my lord, forgets me so?

Bushy oaks on the mountain grow, And six elms where the ground is low.

But I, my husband seen no more, My sad and joyless fate deplore.

O how is it, I long to know, That he, my lord, forgets me so?

The hills the bushy wild plums show, And pear-trees grace the ground below.

But, with my husband from me gone, As drunk with grief, I dwell alone.

O how is it, I long to know, That he, my lord, forgets me so?

~Lament for Three Brothers~

They flit about, the yellow birds, And rest upon the jujubes find.

Who buried were in duke Muh's grave, Alive to awful death consigned?

'Mong brothers three, who met that fate, 'Twas sad the first, Yen-seih to see.

He stood alone; a hundred men Could show no other such as he.

When to the yawning grave he came, Terror unnerved and shook his frame.

Why thus destroy our n.o.blest men, To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!

To save Yen-seih from death, we would A hundred lives have freely given.

They flit about, the yellow birds, And on the mulberry-trees rest find.