The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, [1876], at sacred-texts.com
2Where through the gate in to the tombs we turn,
Owls perched upon the plum trees we discern.
Such omen well may to that man belong,
Whom to admonish I now sing this song.
No welcome will the admonition find;
When overthrown, my words he'll call to mind.