Classic Poem

I, Yang Tzu, hid from life —
Fled from the common world to a lonely place,
Where to the right a great wilderness touched me,
And on the left my neighbour was the Hill of Sung.
Beggars whose tenements
Lie wall to wall, though they be tattered and poor,
Rough-used, despised and scorned, are yet in companies
And sociable clans conjoined. But I, for solitude
Too sorrowful, faltered at heart and cried aloud,
" O Poverty, come hither and talk with me!
For should I be flung
To the utmost frontiers of space,
To the tenantless margins of the world,
Yet wouldst thou be with me;
Thy henchman am I, O Poverty,
And thy harsh penalties, my pay.
Not in childhood only, in infancy
When laughing I would build
Castles of soil or sand, wast thou
My more than neighbour, for thy roof
Touched mine, and our two homes were one;
But in manhood also weighed I with the great
Lighter, because of thee,
Than fluff or feather; more frail my fortunes
Than gossamer, who to the State submitting
Great worth, found small employ;
Withdrawing, heard no blame. "

Then many years I wandered as a stranger
With these thoughts in my heart:
" Others wear broidered coats; my homespun is not whole.
Others eat millet and rice, I boil the fennel-leaf.
No toy nor treasure is mine,
Nor aught to make me glad.
The swallows by my father's house
Play on; but I abroad the world
Sell my day-labour, pawn my coat for bread.
Servant of many masters,
Hand-chafed. I dig, heel-blistered hoe,
Bare-backed to the wind and rain.
And that all this befell me,
That friends and favourites forsook me,
That up the hill of State so laboured was my climb,
Who should bear blame? Who but thou, O Poverty,
Was cause of all my woe?

" I fled thee high and far, but thou across the hills of heaven
Like a hawk didst follow me.
I fled thee among the rocks, in caverns of stone I hid;
But thou up those huge steeps
Didst follow me.
I fled thee to the ocean, sailed that cypress ship
Across the storm, but thou,
Whether on wave-crest or in the hollows of the sea,
Didst ever follow me.

" And if I move, you too are stirring;
If I lie down, you are at rest.
Have you no other friend in all the world?
What would you seek of me?
Go, Poverty! and pester me no more. "

Then said Poverty; " So be it, my master;
For 'tis plain that should I stay
You will not cease to slander and defame me.
But listen, I too have a heart that is full
And a tale that must be told.

" My father's father long, long ago
Was illustrious in the land; of virtue so excellent
That by the King's throne in council he stood,
Admonishing the rulers how to make statutes and laws.
Of earth were the stairs, roofed over with thatch.
Not carved nor hung.
But when the world in latter days
Was given over to folly, fell about in darkness,
Then gluttons gathered together,
Sought wealth and found it,
Despised my grand-dad, they were so insolent and proud;
Built arbours of onyx, terraces of jade,
And huge halls to dwell in; lapped lakes of wine.
On a broth of swans they fed,
And held no Audience at their court.
Thrice daily would they look into their souls and cry,
" Our hearts are free from sin."
And they that dwelt in the Palace of the King
Had great substance, and their guerdon was gold
Stacked high as the hills.
Your small woes you remember;
But my blest deeds you have forgot.
Did I not teach you
By gradual usage, indifferent to endure
Summer's heat and winter's cold?
(And that which neither heat nor cold can touch —
Is it not eternal as the Gods?)

" I, Poverty,
Turned from you the envy of the covetous, taught you to fear
Neither Chieh the Tyrant nor the Robber Chih.
Others, my master,
Quake behind bolt and bar, while you alone
Live open to the world.
Others by care
And pitiful apprehension are cast down,
While you are gay and free. "
Thus spoke Poverty, and when her speech was ended,
Stern of countenance and with dilated eye,
She gathered up the folds of her garment and rose from where she sat,
Passed down the stairway and left my house.

" Farewell, " said Poverty, " for now I leave you.
To that hill I take my way
Where sheltering, the Lord of Kuchu's sons
Have learnt to ply my trade. "
Then I, Yang Tzu, left the mat where I lay
And cried: " O Poverty, let my crooked words
Be as unspoken; forget that I have wronged thee.
I have heard truth, O Poverty, and received it.
Live with me always, for of your company
I shall not weary till I die. "
Then Poverty came back and dwelt with me,
Nor since has left my side.