Xiao Pan

"Xiao Pan"

Preface: "Xiao Pan" is a poem satirizing King You of Zhou. It was composed by the tutor of the crown prince (Yi Jiu).

Those happy crows, in flocks they fly back, so peaceful and at ease. No one fails to live well, only I encounter sorrows. What crime have I committed against Heaven? What offense is mine? My heart is full of grief—what can I do?

The broad and level roads of Zhou are now overgrown with thick weeds. My heart is full of sorrow, pained as if pounded. I lie down in my clothes and sigh long, sorrow hastens my aging. My heart is full of grief—painful like a headache and a fever.

When I see the mulberry and the catalpa trees, I must stand still with reverence. There is no father not to be revered, no mother not to be clung to. Now I am not attached to my father’s skin, nor bound to my mother’s flesh. Heaven gave birth to me—where, oh where, is my fortune?

On the lush willow trees, the cicadas chirp ceaselessly. In the deep pools, the water ripples; the reeds grow thick and dense. Like a boat drifting with the current, I know not where it will go. My heart is full of grief—I cannot even snatch a nap.

When the deer runs, its steps are light and swift. The pheasant cries at dawn, still knowing to call its mate. I am like a withered tree, its branches and leaves fallen from illness. My heart is full of grief—no one knows my pain.

Look at the rabbit caught in the net, yet someone releases it to live. On the road lies a corpse, yet someone buries it. But the heart of the noble one (my father)—why is it so cruel? My heart is full of grief—my tears have already fallen in streams.

The noble one listens to slanderous words as if accepting a toast. The noble one shows me no kindness, unwilling to calmly investigate the truth. To fell a tree, one uses a rope to pull it; to split firewood, one follows the grain. Spare those who are guilty, yet lay the blame on me.

Nothing is higher than a mountain; nothing is deeper than a spring. Let the noble one not speak lightly, for there are ears on the wall. Do not go to the fish weir I built; do not open my fish basket. I myself am not tolerated—how can I care about what comes after?

"Xiao Pan" consists of eight stanzas, each with eight lines.