BOOK XII

_The Odes of Ch'in_

THE CONTENTMENT OF A POOR RECLUSE

My only door some pieces of crossed wood, Within it I can rest enjoy.

I drink the water wimpling from the spring; Nor hunger can my peace destroy.

Purged from ambition's aims I say, "For fish, We need not bream caught in the Ho; Nor, to possess the sweets of love, require To Ts'e, to find a Keang, to go.

"The man contented with his lot, a meal Of fish without Ho carp can make; Nor needs, to rest in his domestic joy, A Tsze of Sung as wife to take."

THE DISAPPOINTED LOVER

Where grow the willows near the eastern gate, And 'neath their leafy shade we could recline, She said at evening she would me await, And brightly now I see the day-star shine!

Here where the willows near the eastern gate Grow, and their dense leaves make a shady gloom, She said at evening she would me await.

See now the morning star the sky illume!

A LOVE-SONG

The moon comes forth, bright in the sky; A lovelier sight to draw my eye Is she, that lady fair.

She round my heart has fixed love's chain, But all my longings are in vain.

'Tis hard the grief to bear.

The moon comes forth, a splendid sight; More winning far that lady bright, Object of my desire!

Deep-seated is my anxious grief; In vain I seek to find relief, While glows the secret fire.

The rising moon shines mild and fair; More bright is she, whose beauty rare My heart with longing fills.

With eager wish I pine in vain; O for relief from constant pain, Which through my bosom thrills!

THE LAMENT OF A LOVER

There where its sh.o.r.es the marsh surround, Rushes and lotus plants abound.

Their loveliness brings to my mind The lovelier one that I would find.

In vain I try to ease the smart Of wounded love that wrings my heart.

In waking thought and nightly dreams, From every pore the water streams.

All round the marsh's sh.o.r.es are seen Valerian flowers and rushes green.

But lovelier is that Beauty rare, Handsome and large, and tall and fair.

I wish and long to call her mine, Doomed with the longing still to pine.

Nor day nor night e'er brings relief; My inmost heart is full of grief.

Around the marsh, in rich display, Grow rush and lotus flowers, all gay.

But not with her do they compare, So tall and large, majestic, fair.

Both day and night, I nothing speed; Still clings to me the aching need.

On side, on back, on face, I lie, But vain each change of posture try.

BOOK XIII

_The Odes of Kwei_

THE WISH OF AN UNHAPPY MAN

Where the grounds are wet and low, There the trees of goat-peach grow, With their branches small and smooth, Glossy in their tender youth.

Joy it were to me, O tree, Consciousness to want like thee.

Where the grounds are wet and low, There the trees of goat-peach grow.

Soft and fragrant are their flowers, Glossy from the vernal showers.

Joy it were to me, O tree, Ties of home to want like thee.

Where the grounds are wet and low, There the trees of goat-peach grow, What delicious fruits they bear, Glossy, soft, of beauty rare!

Joy it were to me, O tree, Household cares to want like thee.

BOOK XIV

_The Odes of Ts'aou_

AGAINST FRIVOLOUS PURSUITS

Like splendid robes appear the wings Of the ephemeral fly; And such the pomp of those great men, Which soon in death shall lie!

I grieve! Would they but come to me!

To teach them I should try.

The wings of the ephemeral fly Are robes of colors gay; And such the glory of those men, Soon crumbling to decay!

I grieve! Would they but rest with me, They'd learn a better way!

The ephemeral fly bursts from its hole, With gauzy wings like snow; So quick the rise, so quick the fall, Of those great men we know!

I grieve! Would they but lodge with me, Forth they would wiser go.

BOOK XV

_The Odes of Pin_