Birth and Death
Fighting with its mother and twin sister,
A frail infant has exhausted its strength
And, alas, perishes in my womb.
······
My last child
Clad in his garments
Of pale pink and lavender
Sleeps deep in his coffin.
For my child
Let there be a happier land
Than the little death bed
Encircled by the four panels of a screen.
42 
