Compassion for the Farmers

The wheat has been quickly harvested,
but the early leaves of millet have not appeared.

They'll make it through the summer without suffering,
but the sun's intensity will prevent an autumn harvest.
Unable to meet their tax payments,
they'll flee as refugees; no one can stop them!
The poor will sell their own sons and daughters;
the rich will sell their horses and cattle.
Who will relieve their misery for them?
Will this chronic illness ever be cured?
When the people are impoverished, robbers arise,
spears and shields among the tiny windows!
From ancient times, this has been clear;
the gentleman can only feel hidden sorrow.
I wish to tell the shepherd of this flock:
Quickly, send word to the Emperor!
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Li K'ai-hsien
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.