<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 病中哭金鑾子(小女子名)>
<Format: 格律不明>
<Year: 2000>
<BookName: Po Chu-I Selected Poems>
<Translator: BURTON WATSON>
<TranslatedTitle: In the Midst of Illness, Grieving for Golden Bells>
<BookPage: 38>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 0>
<End Header>
<Poem>
豈料吾方病，
翻悲汝不全。
臥驚從枕上，
扶哭就燈前。
有女誠為累，
無兒豈免憐。
病來纔十日，
養得已三年。
慈淚隨聲迸，
悲腸（一作傷）遇物牽。
故衣猶架上，
殘藥尚頭邊。
送出深村巷，
看封小墓田。
莫言三里地，
此別是終天。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Who'd have thought, when I was the sick one,
it would be you we'd weep for!
In bed I started from my pillow in alarm;
others supporting me, I wept beside the lamp.
A daughter in truth can tangle you in feeling;
because I've no son, does that exempt me from grief?
Once the sickness struck, a mere ten days,
though we'd reared you to the age of three.
Each cry I uttered, tears of anguish poured forth;
everything I confronted brought wrenching sorrow－
clothes you wore still on the clothes rack,
last of the medicine there where you rested your head.
I saw you through the lanes of our secluded village,
watched them lay you in a little grave.
Don't tell me it's only three miles away－
this parting is for all time!
<End Translation>