The ten thousand changes follow each other
away–so why shouldn’t living be hard?
And everyone dies. It’s always been true,
I know, but thinking of it still leaves me
grief-torn. How can I reach my feelings?
a little thick wine, and I’m soon pleased
enough. A thousand years may be beyond me,
but I can turn this morning into forever.
Yet T’ao Ch’ien knows also that by noon forever will be gone.