* A translation of the poem¡m¸Ö¸g¡P°ê·¡P¤ý·¡P¶ÁÂ÷¡n¡G
The Ruined Capital
(*In 769 B.C. King Ping of the Zhou Dynasty removed the capital to the east and from this time the kings of Zhou sank nearly to the level of the princes of the States. An official seeing the desolation of the old capital wrote this poem expressing his melancholy.)
The millet drops its head;
The sorghum is in sprout.
Slowly I trudge and tread;
My heart is tossed about.
Those who know me will say
My heart is sad and bleak;
Those who don't know me may
Ask me for what I seek.
O boundless azure sky,
Who's ruined the land and why?
The millet drops its head;
The sorghum in the ear.
Slowly I trudge and tread;
My heart seems drunk and drear.
Those who know me will say
My heart is sad and bleak;
Those who don't know me may
Ask me for what I seek.
O boundless azure sky,
Who's ruined the land and why?