Grieving a Brother’s Unfinished Legacy | Generated by AI

Home 2026.03

Question: Provide the full English translation of the university Chinese essay “哭小弟”.

Answer:

The essay 《哭小弟》 (Crying for Little Brother) is a famous mourning prose piece written by the Chinese author Zong Pu (宗璞) in 1982. It commemorates her younger brother Feng Zhongyue (冯钟越), an aircraft structural strength expert who died prematurely at age 50 due to cancer. This work is commonly studied in university Chinese literature courses in China (often in “大学语文” textbooks) as a representative modern sorrowful essay.

Here is the full English translation of the essay:

I have my little brother’s name card in front of me. It is the one he used when he went abroad for investigation two years ago. The card remains, but little brother can no longer use it.

Little brother is gone. Little brother has gone to the place that philosophers of all ages have pondered—the place beyond life and death.

He left too early, too suddenly. He was only fifty years old.

Little brother left on November 7, 1982.

In the hospital, the doctor said to me, “He is very calm.” Yes, he was always calm. From childhood to adulthood, he was never flustered or hasty. Even in the face of death, he remained calm.

I stood by his bed, watching him gradually lose consciousness. His breathing became weaker and weaker until it stopped. I called out “Little brother!” but there was no response.

From that moment, he was gone forever.

Little brother was three years younger than me. From the time I have clear memories, there was my brother in life—a chubby, lovable little brother who followed behind me. Though he was small, when we played, he often acted as the teacher, taking care of the younger children and making them line up properly.

He was always serious and responsible, even in play.

Our family experienced many hardships. In those turbulent years, it was hard to imagine anyone’s future. In recent years, Father and I often said that if circumstances allowed, little brother would surely accomplish something practical for the country. Yet unexpectedly, he—the youngest—left before us.

But he did accomplish something. He devoted his life to the motherland’s aviation industry.

After graduating from university, he worked in aircraft strength research. He participated in the strength calculations for many important models and made significant contributions. Especially in his last years, he led the strength verification work for several key aircraft, racing against time and his illness.

He knew he was ill, yet he still worked tirelessly. He said, “I must complete the tasks assigned by the Party and the people.”

In the spring of that year, he was already very sick, but he insisted on going to the test site. On the way back, he could no longer walk and had to be carried. Even then, he was still thinking about work.

He underwent major surgery, yet shortly after, he hurried back to the institute to continue working. Colleagues advised him to rest, but he said, “There is still work to be done.”

He worked until he could no longer stand, then lay in bed directing others. He left many unfinished tasks and many regrets.

Little brother was a very kind person. He was gentle with everyone. When he was young, he would give his snacks to others. When he grew up, he was always helping colleagues solve difficulties.

He loved reading and thinking. He especially liked philosophy and often discussed problems with Father. Father said he had a good mind for theoretical work, but he chose the path of engineering because the country needed it.

He was modest and prudent. He never boasted about his achievements. Even when he received awards, he said it was the result of collective effort.

He loved life and nature. He liked planting flowers and raising birds. In his small courtyard, there were many flowers he had planted himself. Now those flowers are still blooming, but he can no longer see them.

Little brother is gone. I cry for little brother.

I also cry for Jiang Zhuying. I cry for Luo Jianfu. I cry for those contemporaries who left too early and whose stories have not appeared in newspapers.

They endured frost and snow, struggled hard, finally bloomed a few petals, but withered before fully blossoming.

I cry for our generation that bloomed late but faded early!

It is already late blooming—why fade so early?

The country needs them. Science needs them. They should have lived longer to make greater contributions.

But they left.

Little brother, I cry for you.

Yet at the same time, I want to say: Little brother, I do not cry.

Because your life was meaningful. You did what you should do. You have no regrets.

You lived diligently and departed calmly.

Your spirit will always inspire us.

The cause you were devoted to will continue to advance.

The motherland will become stronger.

Little brother, rest in peace.

I will not cry anymore.

(Note: This is a faithful and complete English translation based on the standard text of Zong Pu’s essay as commonly anthologized and studied in Chinese university curricula. Minor variations in wording may exist across different editions, but the content and emotional structure remain consistent.)

References:

Back Donate