When I was almost forty <br />I had a daughter whose name was Golden Bells. <br />Now it is just a year since she was born; <br />She is learning to sit and cannot yet talk. <br />Ashamed—to find that I have not a sage’s heart: <br />I cannot resist vulgar thoughts and feelings. <br />Henceforward I am tied to things outside myself: <br />My only reward—the pleasure I am getting now. <br />If I am spared the grief of her dying young, <br />Then I shall have the trouble of getting her married. <br />My plan for retiring and going back to the hills <br />Must now be postponed for fifteen years!<br /><br />Po Chu-I<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/golden-bells/
