Have you not seen Qu Ping, banished, leaving Chu southward,
Haggard, walking and chanting by the river shores?
Hearing the oar-slap, he laughed at being sober alone,
Scratching his head, lingering low, ashamed before the fisherman.
Have you not seen Tao Yuanming of Pengze, casting off official cap,
Retiring hidden by a humble gate, leaning on five willows?
Dust gathered full in the lute case, no strings sounded,
On his head a cap, personally straining wine.
After them, sparse and few for several hundred years,
The road to the land of drunkenness blocked by clouds and mist.
Vainly looking in the green mirror, grieving over hair,
Not asking the sage from the fragrant cup.
The wine-star in the sky sighs lonely,
Meeting Li Bai, who mocks and jests.
Sad wind, bitter fog, stir star-sorrow,
Wanting to annoy the cold toad, facing the cup.
Dancing sleeves low, a pair of ducks retreat,
Once recalling the graceful brush against the immortal cassia.
Between clouds, under moon, both茫然,
Desolate rivers and mountains, no victorious air.
Stars, ancient and modern, the body in a dream,
Cunning strength striving for fame after death.
Wei's crane, don't boast the nobility of high carriage and crown,
Lu's quail once was startled by drum and bell.
Last night the garden forest was full of spring wind,
Waiting for flowers to bloom, spring is already half gone.
Orioles just complain at dawn red petals fly,
Cuckoos already urge late autumn planting.
Among algae raising offspring, green fish grow fat,
On rocks, fist-like buds of purple fern are even.
Under willows, startled to meet a golden swift steed,
Deep in flowers, hearing the song of White Copper鞮.
Know that the light before your eyes is good,
Endure hunger, guarding withered stalks.
Next year though you see old flowers bloom,
Yet fear the flowering branches laugh at man's old age.
Zhongnan's purple and emerald lean against the high sky,
The Wei River flows east, entering sea tides.
Water goes not back, the mountain does not change,
Vast and boundless, how many dusks and dawns have passed?
Look at Liu Ling, broad-minded and open,
Favor and disgrace forgotten in heart, passing a lifetime.
Pillowed on yeast, rinsing with brew, content in himself,
Let thunderclaps erupt by his ear.