Li He

Flying lights, flying lights,
I pledge you a cup of wine.
I do not know if the blue heavens are high,
The yellow earth is rich,
...

Long songs have split the collar of my robe,
Short songs have cropped my whitening hair.
The king of Ch'in is nowhere to be seen,
So dawn and dusk fever burns in me.
...

A cluster of emeralds
Piercing high heaven!
Over the Great River's swelling waves
Spirits trail their mist.
...

The River of Heaven wheels round at night
Drifting the circling stars,
At Silver Bank*, the floating clouds
Mimic the murmur of water.
...

Dew upon lonely orchids
Like tear-brimmed eyes.
No twining of love-knots,
Mist-wreathed flowers I cannot bear to cut.
...

No one attacks it with a long lance,
No one plies a strong cross-bow.
Suckling its grandsons, rearing its cubs,
It trains them into savagery.
...

Willow catkins beat at the curtains,
Under sweltering spring clouds.
Screen of tortoise-shell
And dazzling clothes.

Butterflies from the eastern neighbour
Come fluttering to the west.
Today the young man has returned,
Riding his white steed.
...

Hsi and Ho gallop their six steeds
Days and nights leave us no leisure,
Chasing the crow to Mount Yan-zi's bamboos,
They flog their horses with a Coiling Peach whip.
...

The valiant-hearted,
Riding alone on Scarlet Hare,
Out of the gates of Ch'in,
To weep at Gold Grain Mound
...

In the Mao-ling tomb lies the lad named Liu,
Guest of the autumn wind.
At night we hear his whinnying horse
At dawn not a hoof-print there.
...

Silk from Wu, paulownia from Shu,
Strummed in high autumn,
In the white sky the frozen clouds
Falling, not floating.
...

The autumn wilds bright,
Autumn wind white.
Pool-water deep and clear,
Insects whining,
...

Straddling a tiger, the King of Ch'in
Roams the Eight Poles,
His glittering sword lights up the sky,
Heaven turns sapphire.
...

Flowers on ancient plinths of stone,
Nine pillars in a row,
Blood of slaughtered leopards dripping
Into silver pots.
...

Strumming his lute, high on a crag of stone,
Sits an immortal sylph flapping his wings.
White tail-plumes of a simurgh in his hand,
He sweeps the clouds at night from the Southern Hill.
...

An autumn wind blows over the earth,
The grasses die,
Mount Hua becomes a sapphire shadow
In the chill of dusk,
...

Budding branches, stems of flowers,
Blossom while I watch.
Touched with white and streaked with crimson
Cheeks fo a girl from Yue,
...