In mourning for your second son
you have written six poems
and still not expressed
the depth of your sorrow.
But weeping bitter tears
will bring no relief—
you will find his spirit
everywhere.

Inscribe an epitaph on jade
from the western mountains
for your family's lost treasure,
this pearl
sunk in the ocean.

And the Spring is still beautiful;
old as you are,
you have planted orchids—
watch them sprout
and bear blossoms