The Han Kwang

High and compressed, the southern trees
No shelter from the sun afford.
The girls free ramble by the Han, .
But will not hear enticing word.
Like the broad Han are they,
Through which one cannot dive ;
And like the Keang’s long stream,
Wherewith no raft can strive.

Many the faggots bound and piled ;
The thorns I’d hew still more to make.
As brides, those girls their new homes seek ;
Their colts to feed ’d undertake.
Like the broad Han are they,
Through which one cannot dive ;
And like the Keang’s long stream,
Wherewith no raft can strive.

Many the faggots bound and piled ;
The southernwood I’d cut for more.
As brides, those girls their new homes seek ;
Food for their colts I’d bring large store.
Like the broad Han are they, he
Through which one cannot dive ;
And like the Keang’s long stream,
Wherewith no raft can strive.