Classic of Poetry

The wild-ducks and widgeons are on the King; The personators of your ancestors feast and are happy. Your spirits are clear, Your viands are fragrant; The personators of your ancestors feast and drink;— Their happiness and dignity are made complete.

The wild ducks and widgeons are on the sand; The personators of the dead enjoy the feast, their appropriate tribute. Your spirits are abundant, Your viands are good; The personators of your ancestors feast and drink;— Happiness and dignity lend them their aids.

The wild ducks and widgeons are on the islets; The personators of your ancestors feast and enjoy themselves. Your spirits are strained, Your viands are in slices; The personators of your ancestors feast and drink;— Happiness and dignity descend on them.

The wild ducks and widgeons are where the waters meet; The personators of your ancestors feast, and are honoured. The feast is spread in the ancestral temple, The place where happiness and dignity descend. The personators of your ancestors feast and drink;— Their happiness and dignity are at the highest point.

The wild ducks and widgeons are in the gorge; The personators of your ancestors rest, full of complacency. Your fine spirits are delicious, Your flesh, roast and broiled, is fragrant; The personators of your ancestors feast and drink;— No troubles shall be theirs after this.