Of cord and cassia-wood is the lute compounded; Within it lie ancient melodies. Ancient melodies weak and savourless, Not appealing to present men's taste. Light and colour are faded from the jade stops; Dust has covered the rose-red strings. Decay and ruin came to it long ago, But the sound that is left is still cold and clear. I do not refuse to play it, if you want me to; But even if I play people will not listen. How did it come to be neglected so? Because of the Ch'iang flute and the zithern of Ch'in!