Cold north winds are blowing, Heavy falls the snow. Friend, thy hand, if thou art friendly! Forth together let us go. Long, too long, we loiter here: Times are too severe. How the north wind whistles, Driving snow and sleet! Friend, thy hand, if thou art friendly! Let us, thou and I, retreat. Long, too long, we loiter here: Times are too severe. Nothing red, but foxes! Nothing black, but crows! Friend, thy hand, if thou art friendly! Come with me my waggon goes. Long, too long, we loiter here: Times are too severe.

Bearing a load of sorrow and of care; Vulgarly poor am I, and sore bestead, And of my hardships all are unaware.

Long, long the stormwind blew, and wild. He turned to look at me: he smiled; But mockery was there, and scorn. Ah, how my very heart was torn!

The cedar boat is drifting, On currents never still. Sleepless I lie, vexed inly, As with some unknown ill. 'Tis not that wine is wanting, Or leave to roam at will. My heart is no mere mirror That cannot comprehend. Brothers I have, but may not On brothers e'en depend. Tush! when I go complaining 'Tis only to offend. No stone this heart of mine is, That may be turned and rolled; No mat this heart of mine is, To fold or to unfold. Steadfast and strict my life is; Nought 'gainst it can be told. Yet here I sit in sorrow, Scorned by a rabble crew. My troubles have been many, My insults not a few. Calmly I think then, starting, I beat my breast anew. O moon, why now the brighter? O sun, why now dost wane? My heart wears grief as garments Inured to soil and stain. Calmly I think then, starting, Would fly but all in vain.

Note. Although this is one of the shortest and apparently most trivial of the Odes in the Book of Poetry, it is credited by the Chinese editors with as much meaning as the largest. It is regarded, like so many more, as illustrating the extent of the reformation brought about by King Wăn. Not only was the kingdom better ruled, society better regulated, and individuals more self-disciplined and improved in manners, but the reformation affected all things: vegetation flourished, game became most abundant, hunting was attended to at the right seasons, and the benign influence of the King was everywhere felt by the people. The poet thinks it is sufficient to dwell upon these last characteristics. Probably the lines were written after some royal hunt.

In the wild there lies a dead gazelle, With the reed-grass round it wrapt; And a maid who loveth springtide well By a winsome youth is trapped. In the wood thick undergrowth is found, In the wild the dead gazelle,

Starlets dim are yonder peeping, In the East are five, and three. Softly, where our lord is (sleeping), Soon or late by night go we. Some have high, some low degree. Starlets dim are yonder peeping, Pleiades, Orion's band. Softly nightly go we creeping, Quilt and coverlet in hand. Some take high, some lower stand.

True-hearted husband, fain, oh fain Were I to have thee home again. Hearken! now the thunder Is down upon the plain. Hence why must he wander, Nor dare awhile remain? True-hearted husband, fain, oh fain Were I to find thee home again.

She goes to gather water-wort, Beside the streams south of the hills; She goes to gather water-grass Along the swollen roadside rills; Goes now to store her gathered herbs In basket round, in basket square; Goes now to seethe and simmer them In tripod and in cauldron there; Pours out libations of them all Beneath the light within the Hall. And who is she so occupied? Who, but (our lord's) young pious bride?

O to see him once again! O to meet him once again! Stilled were then the swelling sigh. Climbed I yonder up South Hill, Plucked sweet brackens as I went. But my lord I saw not still; Loud was yet my heart's lament. O to see him once again! O to meet him once again! So my heart were well content. Climbed I yonder up South Hill, Now to pluck the royal fern. Yet my lord I saw not still; Still my heart must pine and yearn. O to see him once again! O to meet him once again! So my heart's-ease might return.

And countless cars escort her.