Chinese 323 On HUman Sufferings (2)

 

Pan Yue/P'an Yüeh (247-300)

"In Mourning for His Dead Wife"

 

Winter and Spring have come and gone.

Once more Autumn overtakes

Summer. She has returned to

The Hidden Springs. And all the

World separates us forever.

Who will listen to my secrets

Now? Who will I live for now?

I try to do my job at Court,

And reluctantly go through

The motions of duty, and

Take up the tasks I had dropped.

When I come home I can think

Only of her. When I come

In our room I expect to see her.

I catch her shadow on the

Screens and curtains. Her letters

Are the most precious examples

Of calligraphy. Her perfume

Still haunts the bedroom. Her clothes

Still hang there in the closet.

She is always alive in

My dreams. I wake with a start.

She vanishes. And I

Am overwhelmed with sorrow.

Two birds made a nest and then

There was only one. A pair

Of fishes were separated

And lost in the current.

The Autumn wind blows. The morning

Is misty, with dripping eaves.

All through the troubled night I was

Not able to forget in sleep.

I hope the time will come when

I am calm enough to beat

On a pot like Chuang Tzu did

In mourning for his dead wife.

 

Mei Yaochen/Mei Yao-ch'en (1002-1060)

"Mourning for My Wife: Three Poems"

 

I

 

We came of age, and were made man and wife.

Seventeen years have gone by since then.

I still have not tired of gazing at her face

But now she has left me forever.

The white has come to my hair;

This body can't hold out much longer.

When the end comes I'll join her in the grave;

Until my death, the tears flow on and on.

 

II

 

Whenever I go out I seem to walk in a dream,

Often meeting people, forcing myself to answer...

Then home again to the silent loneliness;

I want to talk, but there is no one I can talk to.

A single firefly flits through the chilly window;

A solitary wild goose flies in the endless night.

There is no greater pain for a man than this:

Here my spirit is crushed and dies.

 

III

 

There have always been long life and early death.

Who dares lay the blame on azure heaven?

I have seen many wives in this world of men,

Yet no one so beautiful and wise as she.

The foolish, it seems, are granted long life:

Why was she not lent some of their years?

Can I bear to lose this jewel worth a string of cities

Sunk and buried in the Ninefold Springs.

 

"Mourning for My Son: His Baby Name was Shishi"

 

Traveling by boat, we rested at Fuli.

There my son, little Shi, died.

I felt only astonishment looking down at him;

Strange, but the greatest sorrows bring no tears.

Not until my feelings settled did awareness come,

And searing fires seemed to mass inside.

His mother too I lost, not long before,

And I am still grieving for her.

Now mornings are passed in weeping for my wife--

Tears drop and moisten my robe and sleeves.

Then nights are passed in weeping for my son;

The doubled pain sinks into my heart.

Let me ask of heaven above:

What is the reason for all this suffering?

I only have two sons:

Why so hasty in taking one away?

It is the birds of spring alone who thrive,

Feeding the throng young in their nests.

 

"On the Night of the Fifteenth Day of the First Month I Go Out and Return"

 

Only depression if I stay home:

Out to the festival to ease my pain.

But every man, rich or poor, is together with his wife;

My hear is moved only to greater grief.

Pleasures cloy so easily as old age comes;

I would go on walking but desire fades.

Home again, I see my boy and girl;

Before a word is spoken my eyes smart bitterly.

Last year their mother took them out;

They smeared on rouge, trying to be just like her.

Now their mother has gone to the Springs below;

Their faces are dirty, few of their clothes untorn.

When I reflect how young they still are,

I can't bear to let them see my tears.

Push the lamp aside

lie facing the wall

A hundred sorrows clumped in me.

 

"Marrying Again"

 

Some days ago I remarried,

delighting in now, sorrowful for the past;

someone to entrust the household to,

no more my lone shadow under the moon.

Force of habit--I call the wrong name;

as of old, something weighing on my heart.

How lucky I am--gentle and mild:

to have found two women with natures like this!

 

"At an Old City Wall of Kaifeng, I Learn of the death of Yongshu's (Ouyang Xiu) Daughter"

 

Last year I lost my wife and son;

You learned of sorrow and bowed your head.

Now I hear that you have lost your daughter;

Memories press me as I sit by a lonely bank:

How you loved this girl,

So charming when she played below your knees!

She must have been clever as she grew,

Aping her mother, smearing on shadow and rouge.

All your love is in your tears,

Falling in the autumn rain, blown in the wind,

Blown north in the wind, dampening my sleeves:

Only a friend shares happiness and grief.

Long life and early death have long been a mystery;

Heaven is high and hidden; who can control it?

Let the Way take its course and relief will come,

Especially with such a fine son before your eyes!

 

Ouyang Xiu/Ou-yang Hsiu (1007-1072)

"White Hair: My Daughter Shi Died"

 

Though my years number less than forty,

Three times I've broken my heart mourning a child.

The pain of it once is too much to bear--

Who can stand it again and again?

Pain in my heart spreads to my mind,

My mind crumbles--the ache is in my bones.

Blood seeps from my mind and bones

And overflows in streams of bright tears,

Tears that go on until the blood is gone;

My hair and skin grow chill and lightless.

So it is natural my hair and beard

Should turn gray before I am really old.

 

Li Jian/Li Chien (1748-1799)

"On the Deceased Sister's Birthday"

 

She is dead, but still it's her birthday;

On the birthday I lament for the dead.

The death is long and the meaningful life is short;

The life is closer to death as the year turns new.

From the neighboring tombs are hungry souls;

The soul of the south misses her old parents.

On the river under the scattered clouds

Are tears, raindrops, and the green spring.