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Lament of the Farm Wife of Wu

来源：网络发布时间：2009-10-13

　　Rice this year ripens so late!
　　We watch, but when will frost winds come?
　　They come - with rain in bucketfuls;
　　the harrow sprouts mod, the sickle rusts.
　　My tears are all cried out, but rain never ends;
　　it hurts to see yellow stalks flattened in mud.
　　We camped in a grass shelter a month by the fields;
　　then it cleared and we reaped the grain, followed the wagon home,
　　sweaty, shoulders sore, carting it to town -
　　the price it fetched, you'd think we came with chaff.
　　We sold the ox to pay taxes, broke up the roof for kindling;
　　we'll get by for the time, but what of next year's hunger?
　　Officials demand cash now - they won't take grain;
　　the long northwest border tempts invaders.
　　Wise men fill the court - why do things get worse?
　　I'd be better off bride to the River Lord*
　　*ancient custom of sacrificing a young girl each year as a "bride" to the River Lord, the god of the Yellow River.

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