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family lament, the Beatles

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just an aspect of being a parent or a kid that comes into play to different degrees...

Edited by 3bob
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From Po Chu-I  (written around 810 AD)




Finally, after almost forty years of life, I have a girl.

We named her Golden-Bells, and it's been a year since she was born.

Saying nothing, she studies sitting now, but it seems I'm no sage-master at heart.

I can't get free of this trifling affection: I know it's only a tangle of appearance,

but however empty, it's bliss to see her. I'll worry about her dying.

Spared that, I'll worry about finding a good husband.

All those plans to find a mountain home: I guess they'll wait another fifteen years.





What can I do? So sick, and your life cut so short pitching me into such grief:

it startles me from sleep. I get up and try lamplight for comfort against these tears,

but a daughter's an absolute tangle of love, and without a son the sorrow's inescapable.

After three full years of nurture and care, a sickness barely lasting ten quick days:

such things tear at the heart long after tears follow the last cries of grief away.

Little robes still hung on dressing-racks, the useless medicines there at your pillow,

we send you off in this deep village lane, then watch earth fill your tiny grave over.

Don't say you're hardly a mile away here: this is farewell to the very ends of heaven.


(Translated by David Hinton)

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