| Multiple poems at a time |
Gently blows the east wind; --
And the wind is followed by the tornado.
In the time of fear and dread,
You placed me in your breast.
In your time of rest and pleasure,
You have cast me off like an abandoned thing.
Gently blows the east wind; --
And on the rock-covered tops of the hills.
There is no grass which is not dying,
No tree which is not withering.
You forget my great virtues,
And think of my small faults.
【Source】 The English translation text was taken from The Chinese Classics, vol. 4 by James Legge (1898) and checked against a reprinted edition by Wen Zhi Zhe chu pan she (Taiwan, 1971).