Ancient Chinese poetry is very repetitive. They had all the time in the world to read it.
9
In the south rise the trees without branches,
Affording no shelter.
By the Han are girls rambling about,
But it is vain to solicit them.
The breath of the Han
Cannot be dived across;
The length of the Jiang
Cannot be navigated with a raft.
Many are the bundles of firewood;
I would cut down the thorns to form more.
Those girls that are going to their future home--
I would feed their horses.
The breadth of the Han
Cannot be dived across;
The length of the Jiang,
Cannot be navigated with a raft.
Many are the bundles of firewood;
I would cut down the southern wood to form more.
Those girls that are going to their future home--
I would feed their colts.
The breadth of the Han
Cannot be dived across;
The length of the Jiang
Cannot be navigated with a raft.
42
How lovely is the retiring girl! She was to await me at a corner of the wall.
Loving and not seeing her, I scratch my head, and feel my heartbeat.
How pretty is the retiring girl! She presented to me a red tube.
Bright is the red tube-- I delight in the beauty of the girl.
From the pasture lands she gave a shoet of white grass, truly elegant and rare.
It is not you, O grass, that are elegant-- You are the gift of an elegant girl.
208
His drums ring out jie-jie,
While the waters of the Huai rush along;
My heart is sad and grieved.
Of the virtuous sovereigns of old,
The virtue was without flaw.
His bells ring out, his large drums resound,
There are the three islands in the Huai;
Sad is my heart and moved.
Of the virtuous sovereigns of old,
The virtue was different from this.
His bells ring out qin-qin;
His lutes, large and small, give their notes;
The tones of his organs and sounding stones are in unison.
They sing the Ya and the Nan,
Dancing to their flutes without error .