A Lament for my Son Ts’ui

You were a pearl

In the palm of my hand,

My tiny baby boy.



Why is it that I,

A white-haired man of three-score years,

Am left behind,

And you, a child of three,

Must by Heaven's silent, stern decree,

Precede me

To that strange and far-off land

Of death?



My heart is wounded sorely,

But not with a blade of steel;

My old eyes are dimmed and dull,

But not with the dust of earth.



These arms

That held you closely to my breast

Are empty now,

And I mourn, as did Teng Yu of old,

My only son.