The Body, Shadow, and Spirit is a series of five-character-per-line poems. The first poem features the Body addressing the Shadow: while the physical forms of heaven, earth, mountains, and rivers endure forever, and grass and trees can regenerate even after withering, the human body is destined to die and vanish. Therefore, one should seize…
Amidst the flowers, a single pot of wine;I drink alone, with no companion near.I raise my cup to invite the bright moon,And with my shadow, we become a party of three.Yet the moon does not understand the joy of drinking,And my shadow merely tags along, a silent follower.For now, I’ll make the moon and…
This article profiles Li Bai and Du Fu, the two greatest poets of Tang Dynasty. It covers their contrasting styles – Li Bai as the free-spirited “Poet Immortal” and Du Fu as the compassionate “Poet Sage” – their lives through the An-Shi Rebellion, their brief friendship, and their tragic later years. Their works capture…
— Li Bai Rugged is the road, I hear, Built by the pioneer. In front steep mountains rise; Beside my horse cloud flies. Over plank way trees hang down; Spring water girds the town. Decided our rise and fall. Do not bother at all!
— Li Bai What left me yesterday Can be retained no more; What troubles me today Is the times for which I feel sore. In autumn wind for miles and miles the wild geese fly. Let’s drink in face of this in the pavilion high! Your writing’s forcible like ancient poets while Mine is…
— Li Bai Before we part we’ve drunk for many days And visited all the scenic spots and ways. When at the Stone Gate shall we meet and drain Our brimming golden cups of wine again? The autumn waves of River Si still flow; The seaside mountains stand in morning glow. You’ll go away…
— Li Bai My friend has left the west where the Yellow Crane towers For River Town green with willows and red with flowers. His lessening sail is lost in the boundless blue sky, Where I see but the endless River rolling by.
— Li Bai We part at the Pavilion Old; The river flows its water cold. Above we see trees not in bloom. Below the vernal grass in gloom. I ask a wanderer if we go astray; He says an ancient poet took this way. The way extends to the west capital, Where floating clouds…