<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 六十六>
<Format: 五言古詩>
<Year: 1981>
<BookName: Tu Fu -A New Translation>
<Translator: Wu, Juntao>
<TranslatedTitle: Sixty-six>
<BookPage: 126>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
七十欠四歲
此生那足論
每因悲物故
還且喜身存
安得頭長黑
爭教眼不昏
交遊成拱木
婢僕見曾孫
瘦覺腰金重
衰憐鬢雪繁
將何理老病
應付與空門
<End Poem>
<Translation>
As a sick man, I know
My mental vigor diminished;
As an old man, I realize
The speed of time's passing.
I returned to you at fifty-eight:
Now I am sixty-six,
My hair a million strings of white.
Grass by the pondside
Has eight or nine times turned green.
Children are now all adults,
Half the garden a forest.
Leaning against a great boulder
I observe the mountain.
While drawing water from the well
I peer through the deep bamboos.
Numberless times I hear the sound of running water,
But even to the present day
Never tire of it.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
As a sick man, I know my mental vigor diminished;
As an old man, I realize the speed of time's passing.
I returned to you at fifty-eight:
Now I am sixty-six,
My hair a million strings of white.
Grass by the pondside has eight or nine times turned green.
Children are now all adults,
Half the garden a forest.
Leaning against a great boulder I observe the mountain.
While drawing water from the well I peer through the deep bamboos.
Numberless times I hear the sound of running water,
But even to the present day never tire of it.
<End Formatted Translation>