廣弘明集 29.38

29.38

江艽字胤卿。僕之第二子也。生而神俊。必為美器。惜哉遘閔涉歲而卒。悲至躑䠱迺為此文。惟秋色之顥顥。心結縎兮悲起。曾憫憐之憯悽。痛掌珠之愛子。形惸惸而外弛。心切切而內圮。日月可銷兮悼不滅。金石可鑠兮念何已。緬吾祖之赫羲。帝高陽之玄胄。惜衰宗之淪沒。恐余人之弗構。覬三靈之降福。竚弱子之擢秀。酷奈何兮胤卿。郯逢天兮不祐。爾誕質於青春。攝提貞乎孟陬。謂比芳於古烈。望齊英於前修。遰高行之美迹。鬯盛業之清猷。白露奄被此百草。爾同凋於梧楸。憶朱明之在節。顧岐嶷之可貴。睨鑪帳而多怡。瞻戶牖而有慰。奚在今之寂漠。失音容之髣髴。姊日中而下泣。兄嗟季而飲淚。感木石而變哀。激左右而殞欷。奪懷袖之深愛。爾母氏之麗人。屑丹泣於下壤。傃殷憂於上旻。視往端而擗標。踐遺緒而苦辛。就深悼而誰弭。歸來命兮何陳。我過幸於時私。爰守官於江潯。悲薄暮而增甚。思纁黃而不禁。月接日而為光。霞合雲而成陰。霧籠籠而帶樹。月蒼蒼而架林。嗟奈何兮弱子。我百艱兮是尋。驗纖帶之夜緩。察葆鬢之朝侵。惟人生之在世。恒歡寡而戚饒。雖十紀之空名。豈百齡之能要。迅朱光之映夜。甚白露之凝朝。指茲譬而取免。排此理以自銷。然則生之樂兮親與愛。內與外兮長與稚。傷弱子之冥冥獨幽泉兮而永祕。余無愆於蒼祇。亦何惌於厚地。信釋氏之靈果。歸三世之遠致。願同昇於淨剎。與塵習兮永棄。

Jiang Jiao, whose style name was Yinqing, was my second son. Born with an outstanding spirit, he was bound to become a fine vessel [of talent]. How lamentable that he met with misfortune and died at only one year of age! Stricken with grief and pacing about in anguish, I composed this piece:

Looking upon the vast and blanched hues of autumn, / My heart knots within, and sorrow rises up. / Ever pained by pity and distress, / I mourn for the beloved child, the pearl in my palm. / My physical form is forlorn, slackened without; / My heart is pierced with pain, collapsing within. / Sun and moon may dissolve, yet my grief will never perish; / Metal and stone may melt away, yet how could my longing ever end? / Looking back on my ancestor’s blazing glory, / He was the mysterious scion of Emperor Gaoyang. / Grieving that our declining lineage should sink into oblivion, / I feared that another could not carry it forward. / I hoped the three spirits would bestow blessings, / Waiting for my frail child to display his excellence. / How cruel, alas, O Yinqing! / Suddenly meeting Heaven’s lack of favor. / You were born in the green spring of life, / In the year of Sheti, precisely in the first month of spring. / I thought you would equal the fragrance of ancient heroes, / Hoping you would match the brilliance of past worthies, / Continuing the fine traces of lofty conduct, / Giving voice to the pure ideals of illustrious achievements. / The white dew suddenly covers these hundred grasses, / And you wither together with the wutong and the catalpa. / Recalling the season of the Vermilion Brightness [of summer], / Looking upon your precocious intelligence so worthy of prize, / Glancing at the bed-curtain brought much delight, / Looking toward the doors and windows brought comfort. / How is it that now all is desolate, / And every trace of your voice and countenance is lost? / The elder sister weeps as midday comes; / The elder brother sighs for his younger brother, swallowing his tears. / Moving wood and stone to sorrowful lament, / Stirring those left and right to fall weeping. / Ripped from the deep love of her bosom, / Your mother, a lovely woman, / Sheds cinnabar tears upon the earth below, / Turning in profound sorrow toward high Heaven. / Looking back upon past moments, she beats her breast; / Walking upon what is left behind, she endures bitter pain. / Facing this profound grief, who can bring it to an end? / Calling for your soul to return, what words can be said? / I was excessively favored by the court’s grace, / And so held office by the river’s edge. / Mourning at dusk, my sorrow grows ever deeper; / Yearning into twilight, it cannot be contained. / Moon meets sun to become bright; / Mist joins cloud to form shade. / The fog is dense, shrouding the trees; / The moon is dim, resting atop the forest. / Alas, what can be done, my frail child? / Through a hundred hardships I search for you. / Attesting by the slender belt loosening by night, / Observing the grizzled temples encroaching by morning. / When I consider human life in the world, / Joy is ever scarce, and grief abundant. / Though one had the empty name of ten decades, / How could a century be guaranteed? / Fleeter than the vermilion glow gleaming into the night, / More fleeting than the white dew condensing at dawn. / Pointing to these metaphors to find deliverance, / Pushing away with this principle to let it dissolve on its own. / Yet life’s joys are kin and beloved, / Inner and outer, elder and youth. / Mourning for my frail child in the dark underworld, / Alone in the shadowy springs, hidden forever. / I have committed no offense against Heaven and the spirits, / Nor do I harbor any grievance against the thick earth. / Relying on the spiritual fruit of the Śākya clan, / Taking refuge in the distant attainment spanning the three times, / I vow that we may ascend together to the pure land, / And part forever with worldly defilements.