Dingy rooms and deserted halls
Were once filled with insignia of rank.
Fields choked with weeds and blighted trees
Were once scenes of dancing and song.
While here spiders weave their webs between
carved beams
There they replace window mats with silken
gauze.
Boast not that you wear your powder and rouge
well,
But grieve that your temples will soon be
covered in frost.
Tonight a pair of cooing doves under red bridal
curtains,
Tomorrow a heap of bleached bones like
those of yesteryear.
Chests filled with gold, chests filled with silver--
In a twinkling beggars despised by all.
One moment we grieve over a short-lived friend,
The next we are ourselves overtaken by
death.
Careful as we may be with our sons,
We cannot be certain they will not turn
bandits and thieves.
We would all bring up our daughters to be ladies,
But who can say they will not end up in
courtesans' quarters?
Discontent with one's position
May bring chains upon one's feet.
Yesterday, 'twas the coat because it was not warm
enough;
Today, 'tis the dragon robe because it is too
long.
What bustle and confusion, as one set of actors
exits and another enters,
Each taking the illusory for the real.
What stupidity; for in the end, in the end
One only wears out one's fingers for someone
else's trousseau.
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