My mind is fixed, and cannot, like a stone,
    Be turned at will indifferently about;
  And what I think, to that, and that alone,
    I utterance give, alike within, without;
    Nor can like mat be rolled and carried out. 
  With dignity in presence of them all,
    My conduct marked, my goodness who shall scout? 
  My foes I boldly challenge, great and small,
  If there be aught in me they can in question call.

  How full of trouble is my anxious heart! 
    With hate the blatant herd of creatures mean
  Ceaseless pursue.  Of their attacks the smart
    Keeps my mind in distress.  Their venomed spleen
    Aye vents itself; and with insulting mien
  They vex my soul; and no one on my side
    A word will speak.  Silent, alone, unseen,
  I think of my sad case; then opening wide
  My eyes, as if from sleep, I beat my breast, sore-tried.

  Thy disc, O sun, should ever be complete,
    While thine, O changing moon, doth wax and wane. 
  But now our sun hath waned, weak and effete,
    And moons are ever full.  My heart with pain
    Is firmly bound, and held in sorrow’s chain,
  As to the body cleaves an unwashed dress. 
    Silent I think of my sad case; in vain
  I try to find relief from my distress. 
  Would I had wings to fly where ills no longer press!

A Wife Deplores the Absence of Her Husband

  Away the startled pheasant flies,
    With lazy movement of his wings. 
  Borne was my heart’s lord from my eyes;—­
    What pain the separation brings!

  The pheasant, though no more in view,
    His cry, below, above, forth sends. 
  Alas! my princely lord, ’tis you—­
    Your absence, that my bosom rends.

  At sun and moon I sit and gaze,
    In converse with my troubled heart. 
  Far, far from me my husband stays! 
    When will he come to heal its smart?

  Ye princely men who with him mate,
    Say, mark ye not his virtuous way. 
  His rule is—­covet nought, none hate;—­
    How can his steps from goodness stray?

The Plaint of a Rejected Wife

  The east wind gently blows,
    With cloudy skies and rain. 
  ’Twixt man and wife should ne’er be strife,
    But harmony obtain. 
  Radish and mustard plants
    Are used, though some be poor;
  While my good name is free from blame,
    Don’t thrust me from your door.

  I go along the road,
    Slow, with reluctant heart. 
  Your escort lame to door but came,
    There glad from me to part. 
  Sow-thistle, bitter called,
    As shepherd’s purse is sweet;
  With your new mate you feast elate,
    As joyous brothers meet.

  Part clear, the stream of King
    Is foul beside the Wei. 
  You feast elate with your new mate,
    And take no heed of me. 
  Loose mate, avoid my dam,
    Nor dare my basket move! 
  Person slighted, life all blighted,
    What can the future prove?