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Well loaded with millet were the dishes ,
And long and curved were spoons of thorn-wood .
The way to Zhou was like a whetstone ,
And straight as an arrow .
[So] the officers trod it ,
And the common people looked on it .
When I look back and think of it ,
My tears run down in streams .

In the States of the east , large and small ,
The looms are empty .
Thin shoes of dolichos fibre ,
Are made to serve to walk on the hoar-frost .
Slight and elegant gentlemen ,
Walk along that road to Zhou .
Their going and coming ,
Makes my heart ache .

Ye cold waters , issuing variously from the spring ,
Do not soak the firewood I have cut .
Sorrowful I awake and sigh ;—
Alas for us toiled people !
The firewood has been cut ;—
Would that it were conveyed home !
Alas for us the toiled people !
Would that we could have rest !

The sons of the east ,
Are only summoned [to service] , without encouragement ;
While the sons of the west ,
Shine in splendid dresses .
The sons of boatmen ,
Have furs of the bear and grisly bear .
The sons of the poorest families ,
Form the officers in public employment .

If we present them with spirits ,
They do not look on them as liquor .
If we give them long girdle-pendants with their stones ,
They do not think them long enough .
There is the milky way in heaven ,
Which looks down on us in light ;
And the three stars together are the Weaving Sisters ,
Passing in a day through seven stages [of the sky] .

Although they go through their seven stages ,
They complete no bright work for us .
Brilliant shine the Draught Oxen ,
But they do not serve to draw our carts .
In the east there is Lucifer ;
In the west there is Hesperus ;
Long and curved is the Rabbit Net of th esky ;—
But they only occupy their places .

In the south is the Sieve ,
But it is of no use to sift .
In the north is the Ladle ,
But it lades out no liquor .
In the south is the Sieve ,
Idly showing its mouth .
In the north is the Ladle ,
Raising its handle in the west .