All the crops are rotting raw
All the days we march to order
All the men are sent to war
Guard we must the country’s border
All the grasses black become
All the soldiers with disease
How was our good will undone?
What has made us us ill at ease?
On the plains no tigers found
Oxen too have fled from sight
Saddened soldiers hold their guard
Resting not, through day and night
Through the bushes foxes run
Tails and shadows in the grasses
To the battle soldiers come
Chariot after chariot passes
~ Book of Songs. Zhou Dynasty~
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