| 英譯： |
In late autumn the acorns ripen,
Falling upon the bramble covered hills.
A hump-backed woman with yellowed hair
Treads upon the morning frost to glean them.
An hour's labour gives her but a handful,
A basketful of acorns for the day.
Steamed and set in the sun again and again,
They will be used as grain throughout the winter.
Before the mountain there are 00 purple ears of rice
Whose fragrance far and wide assails the nostrils.
Carefully gathered, expertly husked,
Each kernel like a pendant of jade,
All is handed over to the government,
Northing remains in private store.
How is it that one dan or more
Is counted only as five dou?
Cunning officials need not fear superiors' reprimands
Nor do the covetous bother to hide their spoils.
Of what is borrowed privately at planting
More must be returned to public granaries at harvest.
From wintertime to summer,
Acorns cheat the empty stomach.
Even Tian Cheng-zi, if what I've learned be true,
Still knew that to be king he must feign kindness.
Coming across this woman gathering acorns,
No wonder that these sleeves are drenched with tears.
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