Ah, Let It Drift Poem by Helen Jane Waddell

Ah, let it drift, that boat of cypress wood,
There in the middle of the Ho.
He was my mate,
And until death I will go desolate.
Ah Mother! God!
How is it that ye will not understand?

Ah, let it drift, that boat of cypress wood,
There in the middle of the Ho.
He was my King.
I swear I will not do this evil thing.
Ah Mother! God!
How is it that ye will not understand?

translated from the Chinese; written B.C. 826