<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 初病風>
<Format: 五言律詩>
<Year: 1981>
<BookName: Tu Fu -A New Translation>
<Translator: Wu, Juntao>
<TranslatedTitle: First Sick Winds>
<BookPage: 346-347>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
六十八衰翁，
乘衰百疾攻。
朽株難免蠹，
空穴易來風。 
肘痹宜生柳，
頭旋劇轉蓬。
恬然不動處，
虛白在胷中。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
The decayed old man of sixty-eight
Makes the best of ruination
Caused by attacks of the hundred ills.
It's hard for a withered pillow
To avoid the wood-eating worm.
It's easy for the wind to enter a gaping hole.
My wrist is thin,
It might be a willow frond;
My head is dizzy,
It could be a mugwort swaying madly in a breeze.
The one place unmoving and unaffected
Is this profound emptiness within my chest.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
The decayed old man of sixty-eight
Makes the best of ruination caused by attacks of the hundred ills.
It's hard for a withered pillow to avoid the wood-eating worm.
It's easy for the wind to enter a gaping hole.
My wrist is thin, it might be a willow frond;
My head is dizzy, it could be a mugwort swaying madly in a breeze.
The one place unmoving and unaffected
Is this profound emptiness within my chest.
<End Formatted Translation>