The Fa T‘an; allusive. Against the idle and greedy ministers of the state. Contrast between them and a stalwart woodman.

1K‘an-k‘an upon the sandal trees
  The woodman's strokes resound.
Then on the bank he lays the trunks
  His ax brings to the ground;
The while the stream goes rippling by,
  Its waters cool and clear.
You work not so, O Wei's great men,
  From me the truth now hear.
You sow no seed; no harvest tasks
  Your soft hands take in charge;
And yet each boasts three hundred farms,
  And stores the produce large.
You never join the hunt's halloo,
  Nor dare to share its toils;
Yet lo! your wide courtyards are seen
  Hung round with badgers' spoils.
I must conclude that woodman rude
  A man of higher style.
To eat the bread of idleness
  He feels would stamp him vile. p. 123

2K‘an-k‘an upon the sandalwood
  The woodman's strokes resound,
Then by the river's side he lays
  What fit for spokes is found;
The while the river onward flows,
  Its waters clear and smooth.
You work not so, O Wei's great men,
  From me now hear the truth.—
You sow no seed; no harvest tasks
  Your dainty fingers stain;
And yet each boasts three million sheaves;—
  Whence gets he all that grain?
You never join the hunt's halloo,
  Nor brave its ventures bold;
Yet lo! your wide courtyards display
  Those boars of three years old.
I must conclude that woodman rude
  A man of higher style.
To eat the bread of idleness
  He feels would stamp him vile. p. 124

3K‘an-k‘an resound the woodman's strokes
  Upon the sandalwood;
Then on the river's lip he lays
  What for his wheels is good;
The while the river onward flows,
  Soft rippled by the wind.
That you don't work, O Wei's great men,
  Is thus brought to my mind.
You sow no seed; no harvest tasks
  Your soft hands undertake;
Yet grain each boasts, three hundred bins;—
  Who his that grain did make?
You never join the hunt's halloo,
  Your feeble courage fails;
Yet lo! your wide courtyards display
  Large strings of slaughtered quails.
I must conclude that woodman rude
  A man of higher style.
To eat the bread of idleness
  He feels would stamp him vile.