63. TO HIS TWO CHILDREN
��In the land of Wu the mulberry leaves are green,
And thrice the silkworms have gone to sleep.
In East Luh where my family stay,
I wonder who is sowing those fields of ours.
I cannot be back in time for the spring doings,
Yet I can help nothing, traveling on the river.
The south wind blowing wafts my homesick spirit
And carries it up to the front of our familiar tavern.
There I see a peach tree on the east side of the house
With thick leaves and branches waving in the blue
It is the tree I planted before my parting three years -"T[
ago. The peach tree has grown now as tall as the tavern
roof, While I have wandered about without returning. Ping-yang, my pretty daughter, I see you stand By the peach tree and pluck a flowering branch. You pluck the flowers, but I am not there — How your tears flow like a stream of water! My little son, Po-chin, grown up to your sister's
shoulders, You come out with her under the peach tree, But who is there to pat you on the back? When I think of these things, my senses fail, And a sharp pain cuts my heart every day.
[97]
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