Commentary on the Song of Good Understanding

Humble rooms and empty halls—once they held shelves full of ivory tablets of office. Withered grass and dead poplars—once they were grounds for song and dance. Spider webs now cover carved beams; fresh gauze is pasted on rush-mat windows. What use to say the rouge is fresh, the powder fragrant, When both temples have turned to frost? Yesterday on the yellow earth mound they sent off white bones; Tonight beneath the red wedding lamp, mandarin ducks lie paired. Chests full of gold, chests full of silver— Turn around and you're a beggar whom everyone scorns. Just as you sigh that another's life is short, You find yourself returning to your own funeral! Discipline your sons well—yet some will still become highwaymen. Choose the richest match—yet who'd have thought she'd end up in a brothel! Because the official's hat seemed too small, one ended up wearing the cangue instead. Yesterday he pitied his thin, cold jacket; today he complains his purple robe is too long. In this noisy confusion, you finish your act and I take the stage, Mistaking a foreign land for home. How absurd! In the end, it was all just making wedding clothes for others!