Book of Songs

[Odes: Zhou South: I] Guan Ju Hark! from the islet in the stream the voice Of the fish-hawks that o'er their nest rejoice! From them our thoughts to that young lady go, Modest and virtuous, loth herself to show. Where could be found, to share our prince's state, So fair, so virtuous, and so fit a mate? See how the duckweed's stalks, or short or long, Sway left and right, as moves the current strong! So hard it was for him the maid to find! By day, by night, our prince with constant mind Sought for her long, but all his search was vain. Awake, asleep, he ever felt the pain Of longing thought, as when on restless bed, Tossing about, one turns one's fevered head. Here long, there short, afloat the duckweed lies; But caught at last, we seize the longed-for prize. The maiden modest, virtuous, coy, is found; Strike every lute, and joyous welcome sound. Ours now, the duckweed from the stream we bear, And cook to use with other viands rare. He has the maiden, modest, virtuous, bright; Let bells and drums proclaim our great delight. Ge Tan Sweet was the scene. The spreading dolichos Extended far, down to the valley's depths, With leaves luxuriant. The orioles Fluttered around, and on the bushy trees In throngs collected—whence their pleasant notes Resounded far in richest melody. The spreading dolichos extended far, Covering the valley's sides, down to its depths, With leaves luxuriant and dense. I cut It down, then boiled, and from the fibres span Of cloth, both fine and coarse, large store, To wear, unwearied of such simple dress. Now back to my old home, my parents dear To see, I go. The matron I have told, Who will announcement make. Meanwhile my clothes, My private clothes I wash, and rinse my robes. Which of them need be rinsed and which need not? My parents dear to visit, back I go. Juan Er Though small my basket, all my toil Filled it with mouse-ears but in part. I set it on the path, and sighed For the dear master of my heart. My steeds, o'er-tasked, their progress stayed, When midway up that rocky height. Give me a cup from that gilt vase, When shall this longing end in sight? To mount that lofty ridge I drove, Until my steeds all changed their hue. A cup from that rhinoceros' horn May help my longing to subdue. Striving to reach that flat-topped hill, My steeds, worn out, relaxed their strain; My driver also sank oppressed: I'll never see my lord again! Jiu Mu In the South are the trees whose branches are bent, And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent All the dolichos' creepers fast cling. See our princely lady, from whom we have got Rejoicing that's endless! May her happy lot And her honours repose ever bring! In the South are the trees whose branches are bent, And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent All the dolichos' creepers are spread. See our princely lady, from whom we have got Rejoicing that's endless! Of her happy lot And her honours the greatness ne'er fade! In the South are the trees whose branches are bent, And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent All the dolichos' creepers entwine. See our princely lady, from whom we have got Rejoicing that's endless. May her happy lot And her honours complete ever shine! Zhong Si Ye locusts, winged tribes, Gather in concord fine; Well your descendants may In numerous bright hosts shine! Ye locusts, winged tribes, Your wings in flight resound; Well your descendants may In endless lines be found! Ye locusts, winged tribes, Together cluster strong; Well your descendants may In swarms for ever throng!

Tao Yao Graceful and young the peach tree stands; How rich its flowers, all gleaming bright! This bride to her new home repairs; Chamber and house she'll order right. Graceful and young the peach tree stands; Large crops of fruit it soon will show. This bride to her new home repairs; Chamber and house her sway shall know. Graceful and young the peach tree stands, Its foliage clustering green and full. This bride to her new home repairs; Her household will attest her rule. Tu Ju Careful he sets his rabbit-nets all round; Chang-chang his blows upon the pegs resound. Stalwart the man and bold his bearing all Shows he might be his prince's shield and wall. Careful he is his rabbit-nets to place, Where many paths of rabbits' feet bear trace. Stalwart the man and bold 'tis plain to see He to his prince companion good would be. Careful he is his rabbit-nets to spread, Where in the forest's depth the trees give shade. Stalwart the man and bold fit his the part Guide to his prince to be, and faithful heart. Fu Yi We gather and gather the plantains; Come gather them anyhow. Yes, gather and gather the plantains, And here we have got them now. We gather and gather the plantains; Now off the ears we must tear. Yes, gather and gather the plantains, And now the seeds are laid bare. We gather and gather the plantains, The seeds in our skirts are placed. Yes, gather and gather the plantains. Ho! safe in the girdled waist! Han Guang High and compressed, the southern trees No shelter from the sun afford. The girls free ramble by the Han, But will not hear enticing word. Like the broad Han are they, Through which one cannot dive; And like the Jiang's long stream, Wherewith no raft can strive. Many the faggots bound and piled; The thorns I'd hew still more to make. As brides, those girls their new homes seek; Their colts to feed I'd undertake. Like the broad Han are they, Through which one cannot dive; And like the Jiang's long stream, Wherewith no raft can strive. Many the faggots bound and piled; The southernwood I'd cut for more. As brides, those girls their new homes seek; Food for their colts I'd bring large store. Like the broad Han are they, Through which one cannot dive; And like the Jiang's long stream, Wherewith no raft can strive. Ru Fen Along the raised banks of the Ru, To hew slim stem and branch I wrought, My lord away, my husband true, Like hunger-pang my troubled thought! Along the raised banks of the Ru, Branch and fresh shoot confessed my art. I've seen my lord, my husband true, And still he folds me in his heart. As the toiled bream makes red its tail, Toil you, Sir, for the royal House, Amidst its blazing fires, nor quail: Your parents see you pay your vows. Lin Zhi Zhi As the feet of the lin, which avoid each living thing, So our prince's noble sons no harm to people will bring. They are the lin! As the front of the lin, never forward thrust in wrath, So our prince's noble grandsons of love tread the path. They are the lin! As the horn of the lin, flesh-tipped, no wound to give, So our prince's noble kindred kindly with all live. They are the lin!

[Odes: Qin] Che Lin His many chariots rush along, Drawn by white-fronted steeds and strong. When audience now we wish to gain, His eunuchs' aid we must obtain. The varnish trees on hill-sides grow, And chestnuts on the lands below. When access to the prince we've found, We sit and hear the lutes' sweet sound. If we seize not this joy to-day, Old age will have us for its prey. The mulberries on the hill-sides grow, And willows where the grounds are low. When to the prince our way we've made, We sit and hear the organs played. If we pass by this joy to-day, Old age will bear us all away. Si Tie 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 favourites 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. Xiao Rong Before my mind's eye stands my lord's short car, In which he dares the risks of savage war: Its pole, whose end turns upward, curving round, And in five places shines, with leather bound; The slip rings and the side straps; the masked place, Where gilt rings to the front unite the trace; The mat of tiger's skin; the naves so long; The steeds, with left legs white, and piebalds, strong. Such my lord's car! He rises in my mind, Lovely and bland, like jade of richest kind; Yet there he lives, in his log hut apart: The very thought confuses all my heart. The driver with the six reins guides along The horses, with their shining coats, and strong: One inside dappled, one bay with black inane; Black-mouthed and bay, and black, the outer twain. Shields, dragon-figured, rise up side by side, Shelter in front 'gainst missiles to provide. Gilt buckles with the carriage front connect The inner reins by which the insides are checkt. I see my lord, thus in his carriage borne, With his mild form the frontier towns adorn. What time can be for his return assigned? Ah me! his figure ever fills my mind! With measured steps move the mail-covered team. The trident spears, with gilded shaft-ends gleam. The feather-figured shield, of beauty rare, He holds before him, all his foes to dare. The bow-case, made of tiger's skin, and bright With metal plates, lies ready for the fight. It holds two bows which bamboo frames secure, And keep unhurt, to send the arrows sure. To him thus busy all my thoughts are borne, Both when I rest at night and rise at morn. He, my good lord, is tranquil and serene, His virtuous fame more prized, the more he's seen. Jian Jia Reed and rush are dark and green; As hoar-frost the white dew is seen. Him, the person I have in mind, By this water I should find. Searching, up the stream I haste, On a long and toilsome quest. Downwards then I turn, and see! In the mid-stream standeth he. He is there but far removed; Vain has all my searching proved. Reed and rush luxuriant rise; Still undried the white dew lies. Him, the person I have in mind, On the stream's edge I should find. Upwards first my course I keep, Though the way is rough and steep. Downwards then, and what to see? In the mid-stream standeth he, On the islet, far removed; Vain has all my searching proved. Reed and rush grow thick and tall; Ceases not the dew to fall. Him, the person I have in mind, On the stream's bank I should find. Upwards first I go along, But the hard path leads me wrong. Downwards then my steps I turn, And in mid-stream him discern, On the island, far removed; Vain has all my searching proved. ...