Han Yu, "Losing My Teeth"

Losing My Teeth

Last year a tooth dropped,
this year another one,
then six or seven went fast
and the falling is not going to stop.
All the rest are loose
and it will end when they are all gone.
I remember when I lost the first
I felt ashamed of the gap.
When two or three followed,
I worried about death.
When one is about to come loose,
I am anxious and fearful
since forked teeth are awkward with food,
and in dread I tilt my face to rinse my mouth.
Eventually it will abandon me and drop
just like a landslide.
By now the falling-out is old hat,
each tooth goes just like the others.
Fortunately I have about twenty left.
One by one they will go in order.
If one goes each year,
I have enough to last two dozen years.
Actually it does not make much difference
if they go together or separately.
People say when teeth fall out
your life is fading.
I say life has its own end;
long life, short life, we all die.
People speak of the gaps in my teeth,
and all gaze at me in shock.
I quote Zhuangzi's story –
a tree and a wild goose each has its advantages,
and though silence is better than slurring my words
and though I can't chew, at least soft food tastes great
and I can sing out this poem
to surprise my wife and kids.

                                --Han Yu

Chinese poet Han Yu wrote “Losing My Teeth” in the year 803.  The poem’s documentation of the poet’s gradual loss teeth depicts a progression of emotion, from horror to shame to resigned acceptance of the body’s inevitable disintegration.  The poem begins with a quick recounting of the loss of teeth:

Last year a tooth dropped,
this year another one,
then six or seven went fast
and the falling is not going to stop.

The direct, matter-of-fact tone helps make the experience more dreadful.  However, at the same time, the word “dropped” suggests a consolation.  It carries associations with the falling of leaves, and has the effect of making the death of the body appear to be a similar natural stage of life.  And the rest of the poem seems to be more about living with what you have than it is about mourning the loss of youth:

By now the falling-out is old hat,
each tooth goes just like the others.
Fortunately I have about twenty left.
One by one they will go in order.
If one goes each year,
I have enough to last two dozen years.

Even in the waning of his body, the speaker here finds an “order” and musters an optimism that he has enough teeth in his mouth to last him two decades.