An Account of Wine

Doube fre lights up the southern land

And singing birds hear each other's song.

Though the autumn grass is not yet yellow

The vernal breeze is long since past.

White pebbles gleam along the Long Bank

On the Southern Peak no clouds are left.

Yü-chang raises up the High Gate

Ch'ung-hua lies in his holy tomb.

With strcaming tears I contain my inner sighs

And strain my cars to hear the morning cockcrow.

The Holy Land ofers auspicious grain

Four holy signs make it easy for me.

When Shen Chu-liang controlled the army

Mi Sheng lost his life.

The Lord of Shan-yang was sent to his ficf

To make a name he failed to do his best.

Master Pu was a good shepherd

And happy enough not to be a lord.

Master P'ing left the old capital

And from the straits sent strange perfume.

The double sun first began to grow

When the 'Three-Foot showed the surprising text.

Wang-tzu loved the pure fute tune

And soared at noon above the River Fen.

For nine years the Lord ofChu refined

And lives retired from the world's dust;

High, high there in the Western Range

Indolence is what he always prefers.

A form from heaven will last forever

Unlike P'eng-tsu or the untimely dead,