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[Sentient Beings I]\n\n[Farmer]\n\nPity the Farmer I\nLi Shen\nIn spring one grain of seed is sown; in autumn thousands more are grown.\nNo idle fields are seen around; yet farmers starve on barren ground.\n\nPity the Farmer II\nLi Shen\nAt noon they hoe the grain in heat; their sweat drops on the soil replete.\nWho knows the rice upon the plate? Each grain comes from a bitter fate.\n\nFarm Homes on the Wei River\nWang Wei\nThe slanting sun lights the village below; in narrow lanes, flocks and herds go.\nThe old man minds his herd boy so dear; leaning on staff, he waits by the door near.\nThe pheasant calls where wheat is tall; silkworms rest on leaves, in a thrall.\nThe farmer comes with hoe in hand; they chat friendly, on the land.\nI admire this leisure and peace; but sigh and chant "Homeward" with ease.\n\nSong of the Old Farmer\nZhang Ji\nThe aged farmer lives in mountain's side; he tills a few acres, with crops not wide.\nThe taxes are high, he can't feed his kin; the grain goes to granaries, turns to dust within.\nWhen winter comes, the plough lies in the room; he calls his son to climb for acorns to consume.\nThe merchant has pearls worth a hundred gold; on his boat, dogs eat meat, so bold.\n\nWatching the Farm Family\nWei Yingwu\nThe rain makes flowers fresh and gay; the thunder wakes the earth from clay.\nThe farmer's rest is short, I say; from now he ploughs and sows each day.\nThe young men toil in fields so wide; the garden plots are all well-tied.\nThey come back home at eventide; and lead calves to the stream beside.\nThey bear their toil and hunger's woe; but rain makes their spirits glow.\nThe barn has no grain, it is so; the corvee still makes them undergo.\nI'm shamed that those who never sow; yet from the village get their own.\n\nWatching the Wheat Harvest\nBai Juyi\nFarmers have few months at ease; in May their toil and stress increase.\nAt night the south wind starts to blow, and wheat turns golden on the row.\nWomen bring food in baskets light; children carry jugs with might.\nThey follow to the fields so wide, where strong men work on southern side.\nTheir feet are steamed by summer soil; their backs are scorched with fiery toil.\nThough spent, they feel no heat at all, but fear the long day's curtain fall.\nA poor woman is standing near, holding her child so dear.\nHer right hand gleans the fallen ear; her left holds a worn basket sere.\nI hear her words of grief so deep; all who listen cannot sleep.\nHer fields have paid all tax to grain; she picks this to sustain her pain.\nWhat merits have I, who don't plow the land, but enjoy the rice at hand?\nMy salary is three hundred stones; at year's end surplus fills my bones.\nThis shames me, I can't hide inside; how can I forget though I tried?\n\n[Fisherman]\n\nSong of the Fisherman\nLi Qi\nWhat old white-haired man is here in sight, in straw cloak and hat, by the stream so bright?\nHe shuns the world and its official ways, by the clear river he fishes all his days.\nHis feet are washed in the sandy glow, his line is cast in the moonlight low.\nHe lodges by rapids, roams with a song, through autumn and spring he moves along.\nHis rod is bamboo from Xiang's shore, his fire from reeds. He needs no more.\nThe green waves cook his fragrant rice, the lotus wraps his fish of price.\nHe finds his joy in this his own, and keeps his truth, his heart's alone.\nHe laughs at those who wake in pain, who by the stream endure much strain.\n\nSeven Rural Songs: III\nWang Wei\nAt ferry's head I glean caltrops in gale; west of the village, the sun slants pale.\nBy the apricot altar, a fisher stays; in Peach Blossom Land, a household's days.\n\nSong of Fishery\nZhang Zhihe\nEgrets fly before the western hill; peach blooms and fish in stream are seen.\nWith blue hat and green straw cloak, in wind and rain I am calm and serene.