Classic of Poetry

Hear the roll of our drums! See how we leap about, using our weapons! Those do the fieldwork in the State, or fortify Ts‘aou, While we alone march to the south.

We followed Sun Tsze-chung, Peace having been made with Ch‘in and Sung; [But] he did not lead us back, And our sorrowful hearts are very sad.

Here we stay; here we stop; Here we lose our horses; And we seek for them, Among the trees of the forest.

For life or for death, however separated, To our wives we pledged our word. We held their hands;— We were to grow old together with them.

Alas for our separation! We have no prospect of life. Alas for our stipulation! We cannot make it good.