Untitled
by Shupei Pan
This piece is dedicated to all the women elders I have encountered and loved. May you remain unafraid and disobedient in the face of time’s cruel taking.
Beauty is always fleeting, isn’t it?
If it weren’t, how could we, finite as we are, ever truly experience it?
You, brimming with youth and vitality, are so beautiful.
Why not die suddenly on the very day your body is at its fullest,
so that death and the art of action could preserve all your beauty?
But you chose to live on,
to let your years slip away in vain, and unnoticed.
Now, in your swollen and dim middle age,
you look at my youth and confess your jealousy.
But I truly wish to tell you:
the loss of beauty is not without its recompense,
nor is this transformation only laden with despair.
When I see how the irreversible loss has changed your body,
we both come to understand human paralysis and futility.
Oh, the strength and beauty that can never be regained!
Love, now wrapped with resentment and fatigue,
is no longer as fresh as it once was;
the passion of seventeen has been drained dry by the years.
And yet, this painful loss allows us,
in this moment, to understand each other,
and meet in a sincere embrace once more.
This is time’s compensation –
a natural repayment mingled with weariness, impotence, and endless regrets
with your wrinkles, your belly, and your love.
Once again, I look at you:
your wisdom, your silence, and your abundance bring me comfort.
Now it is your turn to sit in the autumn hut,
watching the seeds being harvested by the machine
and piled high in the room.
Now your smile overflows,
for your work is done.
On this autumn day, heavy with the breath of death,
you must rest well.
RevUU 