Li Po Poems
|81.||Climbing West Of Lotus Flower Peak||12/31/2002|
|82.||Thoughts In A Tranquil Night||12/31/2002|
|83.||Bringing In The Wine||12/31/2002|
|84.||Chiang Chin Chiu||12/31/2002|
|85.||Down From The Mountain||12/31/2002|
|87.||Chuang Tzu And The Butterfly||12/31/2002|
|88.||Bathed And Washed||12/31/2002|
|89.||A Mountain Revelry||12/31/2002|
|91.||Clearing At Dawn||12/31/2002|
|92.||About Tu Fu||12/31/2002|
|93.||Autumn River Song||12/31/2002|
|94.||Amidst The Flowers A Jug Of Wine||12/31/2002|
|96.||Alone Looking At The Mountain||12/31/2002|
|97.||Alone And Drinking Under The Moon||12/31/2002|
Comments about Li Po
Alone And Drinking Under The Moon
Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; ...
The Old Dust
The living is a passing traveler;
The dead, a man come home.
One brief journey betwixt heaven and earth,
Then, alas! we are the same old dust of ten thousand ages.
The rabbit in the moon pounds the medicine in vain;
Fu-sang, the tree of immortality, has crumbled to kindling wood.
Man dies, his white bones are dumb without a word
When the green pines feel the coming of the spring.
Looking back, I sigh; looking before, I sigh again.