The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, [1876], at sacred-texts.com
2Aimless you roam in lamb's-fur robe,
In fox fur grace the hall. p. 160
Such habits wake my anxious thought,
And fill my heart with gall.
When thus you slight the laws of dress,
You'll heed no laws at all.
3Your glossy lamb's fur in the sun
Gleams as with ointment's sheen.
’Tis this that wakes my anxious thought,
My heart's core pierces keen.
That thus you slight the laws of dress,
Is sorry sign I ween.