No More Learning

The Saints and Sages of old times are all stock and still;
Only the mighty drinkers of wine have left a name behind.
When the king of Ch'? n gave a feast in the Palace of P'ing-lo
With twenty thousand gallons of wine he loosed mirth and play.
The master of the feast must not cry that his money is all spent;
Let him send to the tavern and fetch more, to keep your glasses
filled.
His five-flower horse and thousand-guilder coat--
Let him call his boy to take them along and sell them for good wine,
That drinking together we may drive away the sorrows of a thousand
years.


III. 26. THE SUN

O Sun that rose in the eastern corner of Earth,
Looking as though you came from under the ground,
When you crossed the sky and entered the deep sea,
Where did you stable your six dragon-steeds?
Now and of old your journeys have never ceased:
Strong were that man's limbs
Who could run beside you on your travels to and fro.

The grass does not refuse
To flourish in the spring wind;
The leaves are not angry
At falling through the autumn sky.
Who with whip or spur
Can urge the feet of Time?
The things of the world flourish and decay,
Each at its own hour.

Hsi-ho, Hsi-ho,[21]
Is it true that once you loitered in the West
While Lu Yang[22] raised his spear, to hold
The progress of your light;
Then plunged and sank in the turmoil of the sea?
Rebels against Heaven, slanderers of Fate;
Many defy the Way.
But _I_ will put | the Whole Lump | of Life in my bag,
And merge my being in the Primal Element.
[21] Charioteer of the Sun.

[22] Who, like Joshua, stopped the sun during a battle. See Huai-nan
Tz? , chap. vi.


IV. 19. ON THE BANKS OF JO-YEH

By the river-side at Jo-yeh,
girls plucking lotus;
Laughing across the lotus-flowers,
each whispers to a friend.
Their powdered cheeks, lit by the sun,
are mirrored deep in the pool;
Their scented skirts, caught by the wind,
flap high in the air.

Who are these gaily riding
along the river-bank,
Three by three and five by five,
glinting through the willow-boughs?
Deep the hoofs of their neighing roans
sink into the fallen leaves;
The riders see, for a moment pause,
and are gone with a pang at heart.


IV. 24. CH'ANG-KAN

Soon after I wore my hair covering my forehead
I was plucking flowers and playing in front of the gate,
When _you_ came by, walking on bamboo-stilts
Along the trellis,[23] playing with the green plums.
We both lived in the village of Ch'ang-kan,
Two children, without hate or suspicion.
At fourteen I became your wife;
I was shame-faced and never dared smile.