<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 觀刈麥>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1919>
<BookName: Translation from the Chinese>
<Translator: Arthur Waley>
<TranslatedTitle: Watching the Reapers>
<BookPage: 142>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 3>
<End Header>
<Poem>
田家少閑月，
五月人倍忙。
夜來南風起，
小麥覆隴黃。
婦姑荷簞食，
童穉攜壺漿。
相隨餉田去，
丁壯在南岡。
足蒸暑土氣，
背灼炎天光。
力盡不知熱，
但惜夏日長。
復有貧婦人，
抱子在其傍。
右手秉遺穗，
左臂懸敝筐。
聽其相顧言，
聞者爲悲傷。
家田輸稅盡，
拾此充飢腸。
今我何功德，
曾不事農桑。
吏祿三百石，
歲晏有餘糧。
念此私自媿盡日不能忘。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Tillers of the soil have few idle months;
In the fifth month their toil is double-fold.
A south-wind visits the fields at night:
Suddenly the hill is covered with yellow corn.
Wives and daughters shoulder baskets of rice;
Youths and boys carry the flasks of wine.
Following after they bring a wage of meat
To the strong reapers toiling on the southern hill,
Whose feet are burned by the hot earth they tread,
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.
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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.
<End Translation>