Yo Inlo. (Date Uncertain. Probably 11th Century)
My candle burns a flame of jade.
The peachwood comb goes through my hair
This way and that. My head is clean.
The old dead hairs fall to the ground.
I build my topknot fresh and firm.
Would that we so might comb the State
Free of her follies and her greed!
So cast aside old dead ideas
And build new strength to face our foes!
Too soon my candle gutters down.
The flame of jade is lost in grease,
And sleep drowns my desires.