In seventh moon Fire Star west goes;

In ninth to make dress we are told.

In eleventh moon the wind blows;

In twelfth the weather is cold.

We have no warm garments to wear.

How can we get through the year?

In the first moon we mend our plough with care;

In the second our way afield we steer.

Our wives and children take the food

To southern fields; the overseer says,“Good!”

In seventh moon Fire Star west goes;

In ninth we make dress all day long.

By and by warm spring grows

And golden orioles sing their song.

The lasses take their baskets deep

And go along the small pathways

To gather tender mulberry leaves in heap.

When lengthen vernal days,

They pile in heaps the southernwood.

They are in gloomy mood.

For they will say adieu to maidenhood.

In seventh moon Fire Star west goes;

In eighth we gather rush and reed.

In silkworm month with axe's blow

We cut mulberry sprigs with speed.

We lop of branches long and high

And bring young tender leaves in.

In seventh moon we hear shrikes cry;

In eighth moon we begin to spin.

We use a bright red dye

And a dark yellow one

To color robes of our lord's son.

In fourth moon grass begins to seed;

In fifth cicadas cry.

In eighth moon to reap we proceed;

In tenth down eome leaves dry.

In eleventh moon we go in chase

For wild cats and foxes fleet

To make furs for the sons of noble race.

In the twelfth moon we meet

And manoeuvre with lance and sword.

We keep the smaller boars for our reward

And ofer larger ones o'er to our lord.

In fifth moon locusts move their legs;

In sixth the spinner shakes its wings.

In seventh the cricket lays its eggs;

In eighth under the eaves it sings.

In ninth it moves indoors when chilled;

In tenth it enters under the bed.

We clear the corners, chinks are filled,

We smoke the house and rats run in dread.

We plaster northern window and door

And tell our wives and lad and lass;

The old year’ will soon be no more.

Let's dwell inside, alas!

In sixth moon we've wild plums and grapes to eat;

In seventh we cook beans and mallows nice.

In eighth moon down the dates we beat;

In tenth we reap the rice

And brew the vernal wine,

A cordial for the oldest-grown.

In seventh moon we eat melon fine;

In eighth moon the gourds are cut down.

In ninth we gather the hemp-seed;

Of fetid tree we make firewood;

We gather lettuce to feed

Our husbandmen as food.

In ninth moon we repair the threshing-floor;

In tenth we bring in harvest clean;

The millet sown early and late are put in store,

And wheat and hemp, paddy and bean.

There is no rest for husbandmen:

Once harvesting is done, alas!

We're sent to work in lord's house then.

By day for thatch we gather reed and grass;

At night we twist them into ropes,

Then hurry to mend the roofs again,

For we should not abandon the hopes

Of sowing in time our fields with grain.

In the twelfth moon we hew out ice;

In the first moon we store it deep.

In the second we ofer early sacrifice

Of garlic, lamb and sheep.

In ninth moon frosty is the weather;

In tenth we sweep and clear the threshing-floor.

We drink two bottles of wine together

And kill a lamb hefore the door.

Then we go up to the hall where

We raise our bufalo-horn cup

And wish our lord to live fore'er.

——— Book of Poetry · Lessons from the states · Odes of Bin