Chapter 46 Wei Zheng
Wei Zheng
Not happiness, fame, power, dignity,
Nor art, martial arts, or peace,
Make this crowd willing to be driven by tyranny;
History is their shameless projection,
Poetry cannot stir their hearts;
Art hastily covered her mirror,
For, when these blind men run to eternity,
She was afraid of tarnishing their filthy shadows.
music fueled by violence or habit
How can it sound good?To become a human being,
must rule himself; his throne
Must rest upon his defeated will,
To conquer his fears and hopes,
He opened up a real "I".
1821
Translated by Cha Liangzheng