IN my retirement I grieved that spring was going;
I opened the screen to look out on the garden.
Suddenly a messenger made his appearance
To invite me to the home of the fairy.
The alchemist's crucible had just been lit;
The sacred peach trees had begun to blossom.
If youthful looks could last for ever,
We would drink up one draught after another Of the Liu-hsia, till both of us were drunk.