When your teeth decay you cannot
Grow new ones. When your hair falls
Out you cannot plant it again.
I get up at dawn and look
At myself in the mirror.
My face is wrinkled, my hair
Is grey. I am filled with pity
For the years that are gone like
Spilt water. It can’t be helped.
I take a cup of wine and
Turn to the bookcase once more.
Back through the centuries I
Visit Shun and Yu the Great
And Kue Lung, that famous rowdy.
Across three thousand years I
Can still see them plainly.
What does it matter? My flesh,
Like theirs, wears away with time.
LU YU