A Farewell Banquet to My Father’s Younger Brother Yün, the Imperial Librarian
By Li T’ai-Po
When I was young, I spent the white days lavishly.
I sang—I laughed—I boasted of my ruddy face.
I do not realize that now, suddenly, I am old.
With joy I see the Spring wind return.
It is a pity that we must part, but let us make the best of it and be happy.
We walk to and fro among the peach-trees and plum-trees.
We look at the flowers and drink excellent wine.
We listen to the birds and climb a little way up the bright hills.
Soon evening comes and the bamboo grove is silent.
There is no one—I shut my door.