Poems of Meng Jiao
A Secret Poem
A hungry dog will gnaw old bones.
I'm consumed by a craving that makes me drool.
New writings, ancient writings,
Both move me to tears.
I also eat like a little baby
Rolling a sugared peach around my mouth.
If it only has a little savour,
How can I drift away and linger there?
Old and sitting in my swinging chair,
There silent contemplation teaches.
In the end, you should stop writing and
Not keep filling up pages fancy-free.
Writing has always been pure --
When gentlemen weren't making it virtuous.
Not very secret apparently. Be careful what you write down. This secret's been booted around for fourteen hundred years. That said, poems are hard to date. Is Meng Jiao old here or is he thinking of another old writer in a rope chair? It seems like a maturely-worked poem. So I'd guess this is after he became an official.