<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 垂老別>
<Format: 格式不明>
<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: PARTING FROM MY OLD WIFE>
<BookPage: 202-203>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
四郊未寧靜，
垂老不得安。
子孫陣亡盡，
焉用身獨完。
投杖出門去，
同行爲辛酸。
幸有牙齒存，
所悲骨髓乾。
男兒既介胄，
長揖別上官。
老妻臥路啼，
歲暮衣裳單。
孰知是死別，
且復傷其寒。
此去必不歸，
還聞勸加餐。
土門壁甚堅，
杏園度亦難。
勢異鄴城下，
縱死時猶寬。
人生有離合，
豈擇衰老端。
憶昔少壯日，
遲回竟長歎。
萬國盡征戍，
烽火被岡巒。
積屍草木腥，
流血川原丹。
何鄉爲樂土，
安敢尚盤桓。
棄絕蓬室居，
塌然摧肺肝。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
The country is still at war; no safety yet.
Old as I am, I cannot retire and rest.
My sons and grandsons all died at the front.
What good is it to me to remain on earth alone?

I throw away my stick and go out of doors,
My heart aches, my spirit is dumbfounded.
Fortunately my teeth are all sound—
But I am afraid my bones cannot stand it.
Do not worry—I am wearing my uniform,
I bow to the officer, I bid him farewell.

My old wife lies on the roadside weeping,
Her summer clothes pierced through by the winter wind.
Do I really know that we shall not meet again?
And yet I am afraid that she will catch cold.
I go on my way, I know I shall never return,
Yet she tells me: "Keep well, my love, keep well".

They say the citadel at Ti-men is formidable,
The ferry at Han-hsien is difficult to cross;
We lost the battle of Nu, but not the next one.
There are still months to live, though I shall die.
Death is there, before every mortal being,
And has very little to do with health or age.
I remember the happy days of my youth and middle age:
I sigh and meditate deeply for a while.
The whole world is in confusion of war;
The bale fire flares over the whole earth.
Corpses are piling on the grass, and the smell is terrible.
Blood runs like water, reddening the river and the plain.

There is no place safe on the earth.
How can I wander and not hesitate?
I must make up my mind without any pangs
To leave my pleasant home for ever.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
The country is still at war; no safety yet.
Old as I am, I cannot retire and rest.
My sons and grandsons all died at the front.
What good is it to me to remain on earth alone?
I throw away my stick and go out of doors,
My heart aches, my spirit is dumbfounded.
Fortunately my teeth are all sound—
But I am afraid my bones cannot stand it.
Do not worry—I am wearing my uniform,
I bow to the officer, I bid him farewell.
My old wife lies on the roadside weeping,
Her summer clothes pierced through by the winter wind.
Do I really know that we shall not meet again?
And yet I am afraid that she will catch cold.
I go on my way, I know I shall never return,
Yet she tells me: "Keep well, my love, keep well".
They say the citadel at Ti-men is formidable,
The ferry at Han-hsien is difficult to cross;
We lost the battle of Nu, but not the next one.
There are still months to live, though I shall die.
Death is there, before every mortal being,
And has very little to do with health or age.
I remember the happy days of my youth and middle age:
I sigh and meditate deeply for a while.
The whole world is in confusion of war;
The bale fire flares over the whole earth.
Corpses are piling on the grass, and the smell is terrible.
Blood runs like water, reddening the river and the plain.
There is no place safe on the earth.
How can I wander and not hesitate?
I must make up my mind without any pangs
To leave my pleasant home for ever.
<End Formatted Translation>