Classic Poem

The sun has risen on the eastern brim of the world,
Shines into the high chambers of the house of Ch'in.
In the house of Ch'in is a lovely lady dwelling,
That calls herself the Lady Lo-fu.
This lady loves her silk-worms and mulberry-trees;
She's plucking leaves at the southern edge of the town.
With blue thread are the joints of her basket bound:
Of cassia-boughs are the loops of her basket made.
Her soft hair hangs in loose plaits;
The pearl at her ear shines like a dazzling moon.
Of yellow damask is made her shirt beneath;
Of purple damask is made her cloak above.
The passer-by who looks on Lo-fu
Drops his luggage and strokes the hair on his cheek.
The young men when they see Lo-fu
Doff their caps and show their red scarfs.
The labouring ploughman thinks no more of his plough.
The hind in the field thinks no more of his hoe.
Wistful and angry each leaves his task
And can only sit gazing at Lo-fu.
The Lord Governor drives his coach from the south;
His five horses suddenly slow their pace.
He's sent his sheriff: " Quickly bring me word
Of what house may this lovely lady be? "
" In the house of Ch'in the fair lady dwells;
She calls herself the Lady Lo-fu. "
" Oh tell me, sheriff, tell me how old she may be! "
" A score of years she has not yet filled;
To fifteen she has added somewhat more. "
The Lord Governor calls to Lo-fu:
" Tell me, lady, will you ride by me or no? "
She stands before him, she gives him answer straight:
" My Lord Governor has not ready wits.
Has he not guessed that just as he has a wife
So I too have my husband dear?
Yonder to eastward a band of horse is riding,
More than a thousand, and my love is at their head. "
" By what sign shall I your husband know? "
" His white horse is followed by a black colt,
With blue thread is tied the horse's tail;
With yellow gold is bridled that horse's head.
At his waist he wears a windlass-hilted sword
You could not buy for many pounds of gold.
At fifteen they made him a Governor's clerk;
At twenty they made him a Chamberlain at court.
At thirty he sat at the Emperor's Council Board,
At forty they gave him a city for his very own —
A wholesome man, fair, white and fine;
Soft and silky is the down that grows on his cheek,
Proudly and proudly he walks to the palace gate;
Stately, stately he strides through the palace hall.
In that great hall thousands of courtiers sit,
Yet none but names him the finest man of them all. "