Classic of Poetry

Very sharp are the excellent shares, With which they set to work on the south-lying acres. They sow their different kinds of grain, Each seed containing a germ of life. There are those who come to see them, With their baskets round and square, Containing the provision of millet. With their light splint hats on their heads, They ply their hoes on the ground, Clearing away the smart-weed on the dry land and wet. These weeds being decayed, The millets grow luxuriantly. They fall rustling before the reapers, And [the sheaves] are set up solidly, High as a wall, United together like the teeth of a comb; And the hundred houses are opened [to receive the grain]. Those hundred houses being full, The wives and children have a feeling of repose. [Now] we kill this black-muzzled tawny bull, With his crooked horns, To imitate and hand down, To hand down [the observances of] our ancestors.