Lament for My Son Cui
A pearl that lasted
for but three years;
and now my temples are
white than snow; at sixty
I never imagined that you
would precede me into the shady world;
I felt sad that I
would not live long enough
to see you blossom; now
my heart is cut
by a sword; weeping so much,
I have become half blind; how
I miss the feel of you
in my arms; I have become like
Deng You1 of ancient days.
1. Deng You (?-326) allowed his own child to die while saving the life of his nephew.
（Rewi Alley 译）
A three-year-old son, one pearl treasured so in the hand.
A sixty-year-old father, hair a thousand streaks of snow,
I can’t think through it—you become some strange thing,
and sorrow endless now you’ll never grow into a person.
There’s no swordstroke clarity when grief tears the heart,
and tears darkening my eyes aren’t rinsing red dust away,
but I’m still nurturing emptiness—emptiness of heaven’s
black black, this childless life stretching away before me.
（David Hinton 译）