The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
2 Not for the whirlwind's sweep,
Nor car's unsteady roll,
But when I view the road to Chou,—
Deep sadness dulls my soul.
3 For one who fish can cook,
His boilers I would clear;
So him whose heart beats westward true,
With these good words I cheer.