The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, [1876], at sacred-texts.com
2The swallows fly about,
Now up, now down, they dart.
She to her home set out,
And I was loth to part.
Her form when distance from me kept,
Long time I stood, and silent wept. p. 28
3Above, beneath, then cry
The flying swallows vent.
Homeward she passed, and I
Far with her southwards went.
Her form when distance from me bore
With bitter grief my heart was sore.
4This lady Chung loved me
With feeling true and deep.
Docile and good was she,
Nor failed the light to keep.
Unworthy me her deed and word
Taught to respect our former lord.