God from his great and heavenly throne
Will not spare even me.
O friends and officers, come, blend
Your prayers with mine; come, lowly bend.
Chow's dynasty will pass away;
Its altars at no distant day
In ruins all shall be!
"The drought consumes us. It keeps on
Its fatal course. All hope is gone.
The air more fierce and fiery glows.
Where can I fly? Where seek repose?
Death marks me for its prey.
Above, no saving hand! Around,
No hope, no comfort, can be found.
The dukes and ministers of old
Give us no help. Can ye withhold
Your sympathy, who lately reigned?
And parents, how are you restrained,
In this so dreadful day?
"The drought consumes us. There on high
The hills are parched. The streams are dry.
Drought's demon stalks abroad in ire,
And scatters wide his flames and fire.
Alas, my woful heart!
The fires within its strength consume;
The heat without creates a gloom
That from it will not part.
The dukes and ministers by-gone
Respond not to my prayer and moan.
God in great Heaven, permission give
That I may in retirement live,
And try to heal my smart!
"The drought consumes us. Still I strive,
And will not leave while I survive.
Duty to shun I fear.
Why upon me has come this drought?
Vainly I try to search it out,
Vainly, with quest severe.
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