连年染患貌栀黄,卢扁犹无起死方。
稚女自敲尸畔磬,邻僧来炷佛前香。
生涯谩有千书卷,受用惟存一奠觞。
听说茶毗心更苦,拭乾清泪又成行。
连年染患貌栀黄,卢扁犹无起死方。
稚女自敲尸畔磬,邻僧来炷佛前香。
生涯谩有千书卷,受用惟存一奠觞。
听说茶毗心更苦,拭乾清泪又成行。
连年患病,面色如栀子般枯黄,
即使神医扁鹊也没有起死回生的药方。
年幼的女儿自己在尸身旁敲击着磬,
邻僧前来为佛前点上香火。
一生徒然拥有千卷书籍,
如今能享用的只剩下一杯祭酒。
听说遗体要火化,心中更加痛苦,
擦干了清泪,泪水却又成行流下。
Year after year, illness tinged his face like gardenia, pale;
Even a famed physician lacked a cure to prevail.
His young daughter strikes the chime beside the corpse, alone,
A neighbor monk comes to light incense before the throne.
His life, though rich with scrolls of books a thousandfold,
Now finds its use in but a single cup of libation, cold.
Hearing his body's cremation, my heart grows more sore;
Wiping dry clear tears, yet new ones start to pour.
面对疾病与死亡,凸显人类认知的有限性。
刻画友人连年患病、面色枯黄,名医亦无起死回生之方的无奈与哀伤。
本诗为七言律诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理