The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, [1876], at sacred-texts.com
2Strong grow the clumps of green bamboo,
Around each cove of Ch‘i.
They lead my thoughts to our Duke Wu;—
Of winning grace is he!
His ear plugs are of pebbles fine; p. 61
And gems like stars bright glittering shine,
All o’er his cap of state.
Grave and of dignity serene;
With force of will as plainly seen;
Accomplished, elegant in mien;
Him we can ne’er forget.
3How thick the clumps of green bamboo,
Around each cove of Ch‘i.
They lead my thoughts to our Duke Wu;—
Of winning grace is he!
Pure as the finest tin or gold,
And as the scepter princes hold
So strong, while mild in mood!
See him in car with lofty side,
Magnanimous and free from pride.
His words to jest are oft allied,
But never are they rude.