Classic Poem

A show of arrogant spirit fills the road;
a glitter of saddles and horses lights up the dust.
I ask who these people are—
trusted servants of the ruler, I'm told.
The vermilion sashes are all high-ranking courtiers,
the purple-ribboned are probably generals.
Proudly they repair to the regimental feast,
their galloping horses passing like clouds.
Tankards and wine cups brim with nine-brewed wine;
from water and land, array of eight delicacies.
For fruit they break open Tung-t'ing oranges,
for fish salad, carve up scaly bounty from T'ien-ch'ih.
Stuffed with food, they rest content in heart;
livened by wine, their mood grows merrier than ever.
This year there's a drought south of the Yangtze.
In Ch'ü-chou, people are eating people.