Bai Li, The Poet Li Po, A.D. 701-762
“ A cup of wine, under the flowering-trees: I drink alone, for no friend is near. Raising my cup, I beckon the bright moon, For he, with my shadow, will make three men. The moon, alas! is no drinker of wine: Listless, my shadow creeps about at my side. Yet with the moon as friend and the shadow as slave I must make merry before the Spring is spent. To the songs I sing the moon flickers her beams; In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks. ”
