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What left me yesterday
Can be retained
no more;
What worries me
today
Are the times
for which I feel sore.
In autumn wind
for miles and miles the wild geese fly.
Let’s follow
them with eyes and drink in tower high.
Your writing’s
forcible, like ancient poets, while
Mine is in
Junior Xie’s direct and easy style.
Both of us have
ambitions high;
We’d bring the
moon down from the sky.
Cut running
water with a sword, it will faster flow;
Drink wine to
drown your sorrow, it will heavier grow.
If we despair in
our lifetime of all affairs,
Tomorrow let us
sail away with loosened hairs.
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