<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 對鏡偶吟...>
<Format: 七言律詩>
<Year: 1981>
<BookName: Tu Fu -A New Translation>
<Translator: Wu, Juntao>
<TranslatedTitle: Chance Song before the Mirror…>
<BookPage: 219>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1, 2, 5>
<End Header>
<Poem>
閒來對鏡自思量
年貌衰殘分所當
白髮草莖何所怪
丹砂一粒不曾嘗
眼昏久被書料理
肺渴多因酒損傷
今日逢師雖已晚
枕中治老有何方
<End Poem>
<Translation>
I gaze idly at the mirror,
Thinking to myself how natural it is
To grow decrepit and wither.
There's nothing strange
About my ten thousand strands of white hair,
For I have never taken a single one
Of those magical cinnabar pellets!
Doubtless my eyes have long been dimmed
Through reading too many books,
And most of my lungs become parched
From injuries provoked by wine.
Though it's late for me today
To meet the Master, may I ask
What secret formula you have
For curing old age?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
I gaze idly at the mirror, thinking to myself 
how natural it is to grow decrepit and wither.
There's nothing strange about my ten thousand strands of white hair,
For I have never taken a single one of those magical cinnabar pellets!
Doubtless my eyes have long been dimmed through reading too many books,
And most of my lungs become parched from injuries provoked by wine.
Though it's late for me today to meet the Master$(, may I ask)$
What secret formula you have for curing old age?
<End Formatted Translation>