The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
2All round the marsh's shores are seen
Valerian flowers and rushes green.
But lovelier is that Beauty rare,
Handsome and large, and tall, and fair.
I wish and long to call her mine,
Doomed with the longing still to pine.
Nor day nor night e’er brings relief;
My inmost heart is full of grief.
3Around the marsh, in rich display,
Grow rush and lotus flowers, all gay. p. 159
But not with her do they compare,
So tall and large, majestic, fair.
Both day and night, I nothing speed;
Still clings to me the aching need.
On side, on back, on face, I lie,
But vain each change of posture try.