<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 效陶潛體詩十六首(并序) 六>
<Format: 格律不明>
<Year: 2000>
<BookName: Po Chu-I Selected Poems>
<Translator: BURTON WATSON>
<TranslatedTitle: Sixteen Poems in the Style of T’ao Ch’ien (the sixth)>
<BookPage: 44-45>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 0>
<End Header>
<Poem>
天秋無片雲，
地靜無纖塵。
團團新晴月，
林外生白輪。
憶昨陰霖天，
連連三四旬。
賴逢家醞熟，
不覺過朝昏。
私言雨霽後，
可以罷餘尊。
及對新月色，
不醉亦愁人。
床頭殘酒榼，
欲盡味彌淳。
攜置南檐下，
舉酌自殷勤。
清光入杯杓，
白露生衣巾。
乃知陰與晴，
安可無此君。
我有樂府詩，
成來人未聞。
今宵醉有興，
狂詠驚四鄰。
獨賞猶復爾，
何況有交親。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Sky autumnal, not a wisp of cloud,
the earth peaceful, not the faintest dust:
round, round, the moon newly cleared,
a white disk appearing beyond the woods.
I think of the dark rainy days we've had,
dragging on and on for three or four weeks.
Luckily home-brewed wine was ripe for drinking,
so without noticing I passed the mornings and evenings.
I told myself once the rain let up,
I'd set aside the rest in the barrel.
But now, faced with hues of a new-risen moon,
it would be too dreary not to get drunk!
On the shelf, the nearly empty wine cask－
preparing to finish it, I find the flavor richer than ever.
I lug it, set it down by the southern eaves,
life and pour myself a generous portion.
Clear rays fall into cup and ladle,
white dew collects on robe and headcloth,
and now I realize, cloudy or clear,
I could never do without this gentleman!
Those New Yiieh-fu poems of mine－
they're finished, but no one's heard them yet.
This evening, drunk and suddenly inspired,
I chant them wildly, startling neighbors.
If even alone I enjoy myself so,
how much more if friends were here!
<End Translation>