The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, [1876], at sacred-texts.com
2In the south are the trees whose branches are bent,
And droop in such fashion that o’er their extent
All the dolichos’ creepers are spread.
See our princely lady, from whom we have got
Rejoicing that's endless! Of her happy lot
And her honors the greatness ne’er fade!
3In the south are the trees whose branches are bent,
And droop in such fashion that o’er their extent
All the dolichos’ creepers entwine.
See our princely lady, from whom we have got
Rejoicing that's endless. May her happy lot
And her honors complete ever shine!