南街医工门如市,争传和扁生后世。
膏肓可为死可起,瓦屑蓬根尽珍剂。
岁月转久术转疏,十医九死一活无。
北市医工色潜动,大字书牌要惊众。
偏收弃药与遗方,纵有神丹亦无用。
实者为虚热为寒,几因颠倒能全安。
君不见形神枵然卧一室,医方争功药无必。
左手检方右顾金,两手虽殊皆剑戟。
南街医工门如市,争传和扁生后世。
膏肓可为死可起,瓦屑蓬根尽珍剂。
岁月转久术转疏,十医九死一活无。
北市医工色潜动,大字书牌要惊众。
偏收弃药与遗方,纵有神丹亦无用。
实者为虚热为寒,几因颠倒能全安。
君不见形神枵然卧一室,医方争功药无必。
左手检方右顾金,两手虽殊皆剑戟。
南街的医生门前热闹得像集市一样,
人们争相传说那是神医扁鹊转世再生。
他们声称膏肓之症可治,死人能救活,
瓦片碎屑和蓬草根都被当作珍贵药剂。
随着时间推移,他们的医术反而越发粗疏,
十个病人有九个死去,没有一个能救活。
北街的医生脸上暗藏得意的神色,
挂出大字招牌只为惊吓众人,引人注目。
他专门收集别人丢弃的药物和失传的方子,
纵使有真正的神丹妙药,到了他手里也无用。
把实症说成虚症,热症说成寒症,
几次三番这样颠倒黑白,怎能让人安然痊愈?
你没看见吗?那形神憔悴的人独自卧在房中,
医生们争抢功劳,而药效却根本不确定。
左手检查药方,右眼却紧盯着钱财,
两只手虽然动作不同,却都像剑戟一样伤人。
The southern street's healer's door is like a market fair,
All vie to spread that Bian Que's rebirth is there.
They claim to cure the hopeless and raise the dead,
With remedies of tile dust and roots of weeds spread.
As years roll by, their skills grow ever more crude,
Nine die for ten treated, none can health include.
The northern street's healer, with a face secretly bright,
Hangs a large sign to shock the crowd in plain sight.
He gathers only discarded drugs and lost lore,
Even divine elixirs would help no more.
Turning the solid void, heat to cold they claim,
How can such inversions keep one safe and same?
Have you not seen the spirit frail, lying in a room alone,
Doctors fight for credit, while drugs' effects remain unknown.
With left hand checking prescriptions, the right eyeing gold,
Though hands differ, both are weapons, cruel and bold.
揭露社会医疗领域的治理失效与信任博弈。
讽刺庸医门庭若市、冒充名医的荒唐现象。
本诗为七言古诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理