1

My elder sister stays by my side;
soon she will celebrate her hundredth birthday.
My old wife too is eighty years old,
and still lifts the tray when she serves.
My servants all have heads of white hair—
frost and snow mottle their temples.
People say, “This place is the Land of the Geezers!”
For me, it's the lost paradise of Emperor Fu-hsi.
And then there are others who want to have long life;
they bring in their children, and beg for a favor:
they want me to rub the children's heads with my hand—
they think it will bring them good luck!
Whenever I go out, in any direction,
people come running around for a look.
They seem to think that seeing me face to face
is better than meeting an immortal.
As for me, I just laugh out loud:
“There could be money in this business of being old!”

2

When I was born, I cried myself;
when I die, others will cry.
When I cried, others were happy;
when others cry, I too should feel joy.
“Alas, it passes away so fast!”
The windblown wheel, rolling like a carriage.
They change the torch, but not the fire:
the later flame is still the older flame.
How laughable, the people of this world,
frantically making offerings to Buddha and immortals!
Spiritual alchemy just exhausts the body,
and bowing in worship hurts your head.
In the end, all return to the vastness,
like wind whose form never can be grasped.
Indeed, when called
that is when I'll go;
with a smile, I follow with the crowd.