The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, [1876], at sacred-texts.com
2As when the north winds whistle shrill,
And drifting snows each hollow fill,
The source of pain and suffering great,
So now it is in Wei's poor state.
Let us join hands, and leave for aye,
My friends and lovers all,
’Tis not a time will brook delay;
Things for prompt action call.
3We look for red, and foxes meet;
For black, and crows our vision greet.
The creatures, both of omen bad,
Well suit the state of Wei so sad. p. 45
Let us join hands and mount our cars,
My friends and lovers all.
No time remains for wordy jars;
Things for prompt action call.