In the wild there is a dead antelope,
And it is wrapped up with the white grass.
There is a young lady with thoughts natural to the spring,
And a fine gentleman would lead her astray.
In the forest there are the scrubby oaks;
In the wild there is a dead deer,
And it is bound round with the white grass.
There is a young lady like a gem.
Slowly; gently, gently;
Do not move my handkerchief;
Do not make my dog bark.
– “Yay yew sze keun,” The She King, or, The Book of Poetry (trans. James Legge)