With his horns fiercely projected in the air the beast snorts,
Madly
running over the mountain paths, farther and farther he goes astray!
A dark
cloud is spread across the entrance of the valley,
And who knows how much of
the fine fresh herb is trampled under his wild hoofs!
I am in possession of a straw rope, and I pass it through his nose,
For
once he makes a frantic attempt to run away, but he is severely whipped and
whipped;
The beast resists the training with all the power there is in a
nature wild and ungoverned,
But the rustic oxherd never relaxes his pulling
tether and ever-ready whip.
Gradually getting into harness the beast is now content to be led by the
nose,
Crossing the stream, walking along the mountain path, he follows every
step of the leader;
The leader holds the rope tightly in his hand never
letting it go,
All day long he is on the alert almost unconscious of what
fatigue is.
After long days of training the result begins to tell and the beast is faced
round,
A nature so wild and ungoverned is finally broken, he has become
gentler;
But the tender has not yet given him his full confidence,
He
still keeps his straw rope with which the ox is now tied to a tree.
Under the green willow tree and by the ancient mountain stream,
The ox is
set at liberty to pursue his own pleasures;
At the eventide when a grey mist
descends on the pasture,
The boy wends his homeward way with the animal
quietly following.
On the verdant field the beast contentedly lies idling his time away,
No
whip is needed now, nor any kind of restraint;
The boy too sits leisurely
under the pine tree,
Playing a tune of peace, overflowing with joy.
The spring stream in the evening sun flows languidly along the willow-lined
bank,
In the hazy atmosphere the meadow grass is seen growing thick;
When
hungry he grazes, when thirsty he quaffs, as time sweetly slides,
While the
boy on the rock dozes for hours not noticing anything that goes on about
him.
The beast all in white now is surrounded by the white clouds,
The man is
perfectly at his case and care-free, so is his companion;
The white clouds
penetrated by the moon-light cast their white shadows below,
The white clouds
and the bright moon-light-each following its course of movement.
Nowhere is the beast, and the oxherd is master of his time,
He is a
solitary cloud wafting lightly along the mountain peaks;
Clapping his hands
he sings joyfully in the moon-light,
But remember a last wall is still left
barring his homeward walk.
Both the man and the animal have disappeared, no traces are left,
The
bright moon-light is empty and shadowless with all the ten-thousand objects in
it;
If anyone should ask the meaning of this,
Behold the lilies of the
field and its fresh sweet-scented verdure.