| 英譯： |
WAVING sleeves of his Yüeh sendal gown Greet the spring wind,
He wears a red belt figured with jade And patterned with unicorns.
A party on top of a palace tower, Immortals talking,
Mouth-organs playing under awnings In thick, scented mist.
Warm wine drunk at leisure, Spring spreads everywhere,
Flowering branches stray through screens, The long, white day.
By the high windows of the double gallery They count the cups they quaff,
At midnight in the brazen bowls Candles burn yellow.
Wearing a short-sleeved, low-cut robe He's teaching a parrot to talk,
In purple brocade and faxen shoes He treads on a roaring tiger.
Burning cassia in golden braziers He prepares for a banquet at dawn,
Up till midnight boiling clear cheese From rare, white deer.
In eternal galleries of flowering t'ung He tries out a new horse,
Great screens in the inner rooms Adorned with living pictures,
He opens the gates and squanders the gold From the emperor's private purse,
He rolls up this Yellow River, And pours it over himself.
Even high heaven was once unlucky And split and broke.
But Ch'in Kung spends his whole life Under the flowers.
He goes off with her simurgh tooth-comb, Nor will he give it back,
Sleeps drunkenly on the Persian rugs In the moonlit hall.
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