By Shih Nai-an of Tung-tu
A man who lives until he is 30 years of age without marrying should not then marry. A man who has not been governor before the age of 40 should not then seek for governorship. At 50 years he should not found a home, nor at 60 set out upon travels. Why is this said? Because the time for such things is passed and he wall, if he undertake them, have little space left to him in which to enjoy them.
When the morning sun has just risen, palely bright, we wash our head and face, wrap the kerchief about our heads, take food, chew a bit of this or that, and when the work of this is done we stand and ask ,”Is it yet noon?” Noon has already long come. This is as it is in the hours before noon. From it may be known how pass the hours after noon. So one day is over. How do a hundred years differ from it? There is only sadness when we think of it. Where can joy be found? I ever marvel that people say, “How old is that one this year? How many are his heaped years?” – What is this “How many?” They are the heaped years. Can anyone bring them back and count them? Can anyone see that which is passed and gone? It is gone. Even as I finish this very sentence the time which has passed before it is gone. Sorrow is this to the heart!
Of all joys nothing brings more joy than friendship and the most joyful part of friendship is quiet talk together among friends. Who can deny this? Yet it has not always been easy for me to gain this companionship. Sometimes the wind blows and it is cold, sometimes rain falls and the road is muddy; sometimes I am ill; sometimes when I go to seek my friends they are away and I miss them. At such times I feel I am in prison.
I have only a little poor land. I plant for the most part grain for wine. I cannot drink much wine myself, but when my friends come they like to drink it. My door is near a river and on its bank lie the deep shadows of beautiful trees. There my friends gather and stand about and sit down and walk as they please. I have only 4 old women servants to cook rice and vegetables and such dishes. The others are but children; large and small, there are ten odd of us, although the young ones can at their best but run about for us and greet guests and escort them when they go or bring in the cards of those who come. When they are idle, men- and maid-servants, I teach them to make brooms and to weave mats – brooms to sweep the floors and mats for my friends to sit upon.
<Continued – part 2>
No comments:
Post a Comment