Li PO Wine And Frolicking
The moon leans low upon the river’s breast,
A silver bowl spilling over the reeds.
I lift my cup and laugh at the sky,
Clouds scatter like startled swans in flight.
Companions rise with song and shout,
Their sleeves wide as sails on the wind.
The earth tilts, the stars grow dizzy,
Wine flows, and reason drifts away.
What care have I for kings or crowns?
A plum blossom floats into my hand.
Tonight is a gift too rich to measure—
We dance, we sing, we drink without end,
Our shadows the only guests who remain.
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