The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, [1876], at sacred-texts.com
2Large rats, large rats, let us entreat
You'll not devour our crops of wheat.
But the large rats we mean are you,
With whom three years we've had to do;
And all that time you never wrought
One kindly act to cheer our lot.
To you and Wei we bid farewell,
Soon in that happier state to dwell.
O happy state! O happy state!
There shall we learn to bless our fate. p. 126
3Large rats, large rats, let us entreat
Our springing grain you will not eat.
But the large rats we mean are you,
With whom three years we've had to do.
From you there came not all that while
One word of comfort ’mid our toil.
We take our leave of you and Wei;
And to those happier coasts we flee.
O happy coasts, to you we wend!
There shall our groans and sorrows end.