<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 北征 四>
<Format: 五言古詩>
<Year: 1947>
<BookName: THE WHITE PONY: An Anthology of Chinese Poetry from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, Newly Translated>
<Translator: Robert Payne>
<TranslatedTitle: JOURNEY TO THE NORTH IV>
<BookPage: 209-210>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1, 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
況我墮胡塵，
及歸盡華髮。
經年至茅屋，
妻子衣百結。
慟哭松聲回，
悲泉共幽咽。
平生所嬌兒，
顏色白勝雪。
見耶背面啼，
垢膩腳不襪。
床前兩小女，
補綻才過膝。
海圖坼波濤，
舊繡移曲折。
天吳及紫鳳，
顛倒在裋褐。
老夫情懷惡，
嘔泄臥數日。
那無囊中帛，
救汝寒凜慄。
粉黛亦解苞，
衾裯稍羅列。
瘦妻面復光，
癡女頭自櫛。
學母無不為，
曉妝隨手抹。
移時施朱鉛，
狼藉畫眉闊。
生還對童稚，
似欲忘飢渴。
問事競挽鬚，
誰能即嗔喝。
翻思在賊愁，
甘受雜亂聒。
新歸且慰意，
生理焉能說。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
I, too, have fallen in the dust of the Barbarians;
After I escaped my hair was streaked with white.
Nearly a whole year passed before I returned home.
There was my wife clothed in a hundred patches,
And our sobbing grief sounded like soughing pines,
And our lonely tears echoed like sad fountains.
That child whom I have adored from my youth,
Whose complexion was whiter than snow—
She saw her father turn back his face and whimper,
And there were no stockings on her dirty, greasy feet.
   In front of the bed stood two little girls,
Covered in patches, their clothes hardy reaching their knees;
From some embroidered sea their mother had cut the waves,
But the ancient embroidery was stitched confusedly.
There was Tien Hu and the Purple Phoenix
All turned upside-down on their short clothes.
I, an old man, filled with resentment
For some days lay on my bed, vomiting, purging.
Fortunately I have clothes somewhere in my baggage,
And perhaps this will save them from the shivering cold.
I take powder and black stones from their wrappings,
Quilts and coverlets are soon folded and arranged.
Once again my poor wife's face is glowing,
And the silly girls comb their own hair,
Imitating their mother in everything—
So carelessly they paint their faces in the morning,
Absorbed in daubing themselves with rouge and white lead,
Scattering on their faces such widely-spaced eyebrows.
Well, I have returned alive to play with my children,
And it is as though I had already forgotten hunger and thirst.
They ask questions, crowd round me, cling to my beard.
How can I be angry or drive them away?
Meditating on my grief among the rebels,
I cheerfully listen to all their chattering.
So, newly returned, for a while I comfort my feelings,
But one thing remains—how shall I make a living?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
I, too, have fallen in the dust of the Barbarians;
After I escaped my hair was streaked with white.
Nearly a whole year passed before I returned home.
There was my wife clothed in a hundred patches,
And our sobbing grief sounded like soughing pines,
And our lonely tears echoed like sad fountains.
That child whom I have adored from my youth,
Whose complexion was whiter than snow—
She saw her father turn back his face and whimper,
And there were no stockings on her dirty, greasy feet.
In front of the bed stood two little girls,
Covered in patches, their clothes hardy reaching their knees;
From some embroidered sea their mother had cut the waves,
But the ancient embroidery was stitched confusedly.
There was Tien Hu and the Purple Phoenix
All turned upside-down on their short clothes.
I, an old man, filled with resentment
For some days lay on my bed, vomiting, purging.
Fortunately I have clothes somewhere in my baggage,
And perhaps this will save them from the shivering cold.
I take powder and black stones from their wrappings,
Quilts and coverlets are soon folded and arranged.
Once again my poor wife's face is glowing,
And the silly girls comb their own hair,
Imitating their mother in everything—
So carelessly they paint their faces in the morning,
Absorbed in daubing themselves with rouge and white lead,
Scattering on their faces such widely-spaced eyebrows.
Well, I have returned alive to play with my children,
And it is as though I had already forgotten hunger and thirst.
They ask questions, crowd round me, cling to my beard.
How can I be angry or drive them away?
Meditating on my grief among the rebels,
I cheerfully listen to all their chattering.
So, newly returned, for a while I comfort my feelings,
But one thing remains—how shall I make a living?
<End Formatted Translation>