Poems of Meng Jiao
With Liyang's minister, accompanying Graduate Sun
A worn-out lute is hard to tune and
It's hard to sing in the southern way.
As if from a distance, awkward and sick,
I'm dazed as if floating through dreams.
In pure tones, I start to scream at my companions.
In elegant words, my companions join in.
Arguing uselessly, each in his own way, so what
If you agree with convention? What then?
Leading the bitter is a strength of mine.
Those city lights up ahead, aren't they glorious?
Sounds like a nice trip. Two men escorting a provincial exam graduate to the big city. The three of them arguing about something (everything?) the whole way. Meng Jiao trying to settle them all down with some music. But that doesn't work either. The only upside is that their destination is finally in sight. I somehow doubt that Meng Jiao shared this poem with these two men.