The affairs of youth are now far distant,
Old friendships truly stir the heart with longing.
A hundred years—how few they are!
Ten years have passed without our meeting.
I think back to our days in the village,
Where we roamed and played without a trace of doubt.
We shared our meals, never parting,
Our talk and laughter long accompanied each other.
I honored you as an elder brother,
Who could have parted such a bond of sweetness?
Teeth and hair not yet aged,
We had not reached decline or decay.
My son was still in swaddling clothes,
You had not yet an infant of your own.
You later left alone, departing,
To serve as an official at the world's far edge.
I too grew weary of constant奔走,
And withdrew afar, never to return.
The years, remote, are hard to rely upon,
Trifling, we age, my friend and I.
Moreover, since we parted from each other,
Many events have crowded in like ranks.
My strength of mind cannot save the situation,
Sickness and decline invade my very bones.
Both our sons have now reached manhood,
Like me, they sadly lack great talent.
You too already have an heir,
With fine bone structure, handsome and bright.
Human affairs—who knows how many changes?
Our meeting in the end was not to be.
Recently I had not planned to go out,
But heroes often mock themselves.
Gloomy and unhappy on my own,
Who would feel sorrow on your behalf?
Suddenly moved by this reflection,
I journeyed east, climbing peaks and cliffs.
I never thought to find you here,
Where spring brings laughter and light jest.
Your face is radiant as of old,
Great laughter flies like dust and ashes.
My aging is perhaps a curious sight,
White whiskers sprout upon both cheeks.
Your new verse shames me with its prior gift,
Your ancient poems earn my high regard.
Worthy and outstanding, not alone you stride,
Old friends often find themselves at odds.
I write this poem in reply to your kind gift,
And also as a gentle urging on.