Relationships
Blaming Sons
Translated by Arthur Waley (1918) · From A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems (1918)
White hair covers my temples,
I am wrinkled and seared beyond repair,
And though I have got five sons,
They all hate paper and brush.
A-shu is eighteen:
For laziness there is none like him.
A-hsüan does his best,
But really loathes the Fine Arts.
Yung-tuan is thirteen.
But does not know “six” from “seven.”
T’ung-tzŭ in his ninth year
Is only concerned with things to eat.
If Heaven treats me like this,
What can I do but fill my cup?
Cite this poem
MLA
Ch’ien, T’ao. “Blaming Sons.” Translated by Arthur Waley. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/tao-chien/5/.
Chicago
Ch’ien, T’ao. “Blaming Sons.” Translated by Arthur Waley. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/tao-chien/5/.
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