Title

Daughter

女儿

Date

1948

Medium

Sketches

Technique

Sketch

Dimensions

42cm x 29.5cm

Accession

YJH-000002

Catalogue no.

YS-1948-001

Inscription

The day of Xiaohua’s birth was the day my own misfortune arrived. Now she is two; her crying is like learning to speak, innocent and dear, making one forget one’s cares. Affairs of state grow worse by the day, the people’s livelihood hard. I copy here two poems on the bitterness of public employees published that day in Dagang Bao under the name Bilang: Most bitter now the public servant’s lot, Hauling firewood and rice, still more worn out; Half a broken room, half a year’s pay, One fur for spring clothes, one month’s wage; Even coarse rice cut by five dou, The blue gown secretly wet through three springs; The whole city in wind and rain cries “adjust,” And sees only a brief mirage. A year again since victory and the return to the capital, Drifting to the ends of the earth in search of grain; The post’s salary was never mean, Yet how not to worry, lasting only days? Prices soar madly on the wind, The toiler, disheartened, hangs his head; Even a clever wife cannot cook without rice, Pacing the house, fate already cast. The language is plain, yet all of it rings true. Eight years of the War of Resistance have ended only in the blessing of corrupt receiving officials; loyal and steadfast men can only sigh thus! 3 March of the thirty-seventh year [1948], a guest in Jinling. Jianhou, painting a portrait of my little daughter Huahua, and wishing her health, joy, and many blessings.