病馬

乘爾亦已久，天寒關塞深。塵中老盡力，歲晚病傷心。
毛骨豈殊衆，馴良猶至今。物微意不淺，感動一沉吟。
（杜甫）

To my sick horse

For long you have served me as my carrier;
The harsh winter now invades the remotest border.
Seeing that you still toil in dust,
Yet ill at this old age, I am crushed.
Your mane and tail are not among the fairest,
But so tamed and gentle have you been to this day.
About a tiny thing like you, there is a lot to convey;
Overwhelmed, I must delay what I have to say.
(By Tu Fu)