Grieving on the Way to Fuping by Wei Ying-wu

A bitter frost fell this morning
before the white shroud I cried
ordered on a hundred-li journey
what good would sorrow do
earlier in the prefecture office
I ran errands to towns in the district
leaving home without any worries
always coming back happy
now when I close my rickety gate
I hear our children crying
but a father has to go forth
even when there’s no mother at home
swallowing remorse hurts me inside
all the more in this bitter cold
in a one-person cart on a road so bleak
I look back and keep slowing down
a rising wind lashes the plain
geese cry out and fly off
in the past we traveled this road together
I never thought I’d be on it alone

translated by Red Pine

Lamenting My Loss by Wei Ying-wu

Like silk that’s been dyed
or wood that’s now ash
I recall the person I lived with
gone and not coming back
to whom I was wedded for twenty years
who respected me as if we just met
our betrothal occurred during troubled times
our separations were due to disasters
a model of gentleness and simplicity
she was courteous and always proper
but public office has no room for oneself
and my duties undercut her beauty
this morning when I entered the women’s quarters
the rooms were covered with dust
ever since this person left
whatever I touch is painful
a widower now I pass the time
wiping our children’s tears
I try to push my fantasies away
but these feelings are hard to stop
suddenly my daydreams look real
startled I begin pacing again
this heart is utterly relentless
and our house is surrounded by weeds

translated by Red Pine

Returning Home After a Trip by Wei Ying-wu

In the past I was glad to come home
but to sadness I now return
entering our closed sunless room
I stifle my grief and write the epitaph
I lift the dark curtain in pain
startled by a cold desolate breeze
our younger daughter doesn’t realize
she still comes into the courtyard to play
I sigh every day feeling older
dazed by the transience of life
my relatives urge me to eat
at the table my tears fall in vain

translated by Red Pine