Well versed in the Four books and five classics

Analects of Confucius

High as safe mountain, how can I use money to judge you, i might as well convert to gold and pearls, Ill
wait till the tools for measuring the weight of the sky and the weight of water in the sea appear. When
that time comes, please ask me again

Universes movement

Decorum

Han Bi Ja

Sun Tzu (art of war) wuzi

36 stratagems

Han Feizi

Su Tungpo

Mid-Autumn Moon
As evening clouds withdraw, a clear, cool breeze floods in.
The jade wheel passes silently across the Silver River.
This life this night has rarely been kind.
Where will we see this moon next year?

Water Melody
When did the bright moon first appear? I raise a cup of wine and ask the dark sky.
I wonder, in the palace of Heaven, what year it is this evening.
I wish to ride the wind and return there, yet fear the crystal towers and jade palace. Being on top, one has to
bear the chill.
Rising to dance with the clear shadow; it doesnt seem like it is the mortal world.
Revolving around the red pavilion, reaching under a silk-wrought door, shining upon the sleepless.
No resentment, but how come the moon is always full at times of separation?
People have sorrows, joys, partings, and reunions; the moon can also be dim, bright, half, and full. It has
never been perfect since ancient times.
May human beings be blessed with longevity! Although a thousand miles apart, all can share the moons
beauty together.
Lament of a Peasant Woman of Wu
Su Shi 1036-1101

This year the rice plants ripen late,

They wont be ready
until frosty winds begin to blow.
And when frosty winds came
the rain never stopped,
Mold grew on the hoe,
the sickle turned rusty.
Her eyes had no more tears,
 yet still the rains came down.
Staring bitterly at yellow stalks
lying in black mud.
For a month she stayed
in a shack in the fields,
Picked what she could
when the weather cleared,
then followed the ox home.
Sweating,
she carried the crops to the market,
her shoulders bruised from the load,
But received a price
usually paid for mere husks of grain.
She sold the ox to pay taxes,
stripped wood from her roof
for her cooking fire,
Desperate acts
with no thought for next years hunger.
This year the tax collectors
demand cash not crops
To recruit Tibetans
to guard the vast northwestern frontier.
Sage officials fill the court,
but the peoples lives get worse,
Better to end her days as the River Lords wife!

POETRY OF PROTEST 151

water coming up the water-wheels, he also wrote a poem called "The

Sigh of a Peasant Woman".

"This year the rice crop ripens late,

Waiting for the sharp^ dry winter wind to come.
But the rains came when the frost was due,
The sickle rusted and the rake was covered with mould.
I cried my tears out, but the rains continued.
How could I bear to see the ears lying in the mud?
After waiting for a month living in a shack,
The skies having cleared, I carted the crop home.
With sweat on my red shoulders I carried it to town,
The price was low and I begged to sell it like chaff.
Careless of next year's hunger, I sold the cow
To pay the tax and chopped the doors for fuel.
The government wants tax in cash and not in kind;
For wars in the north-west across a thousand miles,
My sons are drafted."

Again, he was writing joyous songs for the surf-riders during the
period of the Hangchow bore. It was the custom at mid-autumn every
year at Hangchow for people to come from great distances and line up
#n the bank of the Chientang River and watch the coming of the bore,
which steadily rose in height as it came in from the sea and entered the
narrowing bay. Before the bore came, there was usually a marine dis-
play. It is not clear how they rode on the surf. While they were called
by th6 name of "riders on the surf", taJang-erh, the impression was
that good swimmers rode out in small boats with red and green flags
on them to meet the oncoming bore. Su Tungpo wrote rousing popular
songs for these surf-riders to sing, and spoke of the white foam swallow-
ing up the red flags of the riders and the height of the surfs covering
half the view of the Yueh hills. But he also wrote of his inner feelings
after waking up from a drink in the early hours of the morning.

"The affairs of men are in a turmoil.

The lonely scholar's spirit is vexed.
Why should the melody of the lute
Be drowned in the noise of the kettle-drum?
Three cups can drown ten thousand worries,
And after waking up my spirit is cleansed. . . .
Sleepless with the burden of my thoughts,
I rise to see the lambent Milky Way.
Over the railings the Dipper h_as turned low,
And the bright Venus shimmers in the east."