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BOOK III



THE ODES OF P'EI


~An Officer Bewails the Neglect with which He is Treated~

It floats about, that boat of cypress wood,
Now here, now there, as by the current borne.
Nor rest nor sleep comes in my troubled mood;
I suffer as when painful wound has torn
The shrinking body. Thus I dwell forlorn,
And aimless muse, my thoughts of sorrow full.
I might with wine refresh my spirit worn;
I might go forth, and, sauntering try to cool
The fever of my heart; but grief holds sullen rule.

My mind resembles not a mirror plate,
Reflecting all the impressions it receives.
The good I love, the bad regard with hate;
I only cherish whom my heart believes.
Colleagues I have, but yet my spirit grieves,
That on their honor I cannot depend.
I speak, but my complaint no influence leaves