Classic of Poetry

O bright and high Heaven, Who enlightenest and rulest this lower world! I marched on this expedition to the west, As far as this wilderness of K‘ëw. From the first day of the second month, I have passed through the cold and the heat. My heart is sad; The poison [of my lot] is too bitter. I think of those [at court] in their offices, And my tears flow down like rain. Do I not wish to return? But I fear the net for crime.

Formerly, when I set out, The sun and moon had renewed the year. When shall I return? The year is now late. I think how I am alone, While the affairs devolving on me are very many. My heart is sad, And I am toiled without any leisure. I think of those [at court] in their offices, Looking back to them with fond regard. Do I not wish to return? But I am afraid of reproof and anger.

Formerly, when I set out, The sun and moon were giving a mild warmth. When shall I return? The affairs of government are become more urgent. It is late in the year, And we are gathering the southernwood, and reaping the beans. My heart is sad; I give myself nothing but distress. When I think of those [at court] in their offices, I rise and pass the night outside. Do I not wish to return? But I am afraid of the vicissitudes of things.

Ah! ye gentlemen! Do not reckon on your rest being permanent. Quietly fulfil the duties of your offices, Associating with the correct and upright. So shall the Spirits hearken to you, And give you good.

Ah! ye gentlemen! Do not reckon on your repose being permanent. Quietly fulfil the duties of your offices, Loving the correct and upright. So shall the Spirits hearken to you, And give you large measures of bright happiness.