Whose backs are scorched by flames of the shining sky.
Tired they toil, caring nothing for the heat,
Grudging the shortness of the long summer day.
A poor woman follows at the reapers’ side
With an infant child carried close at her breast.
With her right hand she gleans the fallen grain;
On her left arm a broken basket hangs.
And _I_ to-day ... by virtue of what right
Have I never once tended field or tree?
My government-pay is three hundred tons;
At the year’s end I have still grain in hand.
Thinking of this, secretly I grew ashamed;
And all day the thought lingered in my head.




[16] GOING ALONE TO SPEND A NIGHT AT THE HSIEN-YU TEMPLE

[_A.D. 806_]


The crane from the shore standing at the top of the steps;
The moon on the pool seen at the open door;
Where these are, I made my lodging-place
And for two nights could not turn away.
I am glad I chanced on a place so lonely and still
With no companion to drag me early home.
Now that I have tasted the joy of being alone
I will never again come with a friend at my side.