OLD AGE 老

POEMS BY YUNGTZE
蓉子詩選*
OLD AGE 老




Old age is an illness under the tree of life
Growing more meager by the moment a worn-out
machine
Merely placed at the foot of a wall
Neither useful nor decorative
Good only for lazily watching the shadows move

When memories seem fresh:
I was beautiful
I was energetic
I have countless colorful memories
— in this day of profit and use they all turn to smoke

On the water, the boatman struggles to steer his craft
The boat crosses the water without a trace
Countless scenes and images vanish with the wind . . .
The purple Chinese bellflowers on the desk droop
You look so tired your familiar glory has dimmed

Look at mankind, all new and so fashionable smug
Some have nothing to give and they swell, full of themselves
Some have everything to give but are buried
the light of the setting sun cools
If there were no love in this world
Then all history would turn to dust too.

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OLD AGE 老
By Yungtze 蓉子
Translated by John J. S. BALCOM 陶忘機