<Header>
<Author: 李賀>
<Title: 浩歌>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1947>
<BookName: THE WHITE PONY: An Anthology of Chinese Poetry from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, Newly Translated>
<Translator: Robert Payne>
<TranslatedTitle: A GREAT SON>
<BookPage: 266>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1, 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
南風吹山作平地，
帝遣天吳移海水。
王母桃花千遍紅，
彭祖巫咸幾回死。
青毛驄馬參差錢，
嬌春楊柳含細煙。
箏人勸我金屈巵，
神血未凝身問誰。
不須浪飲丁都護，
世上英雄本無主。
買絲繡作平原君，
有酒惟澆趙州土。
漏催水咽玉蟾蜍，
衛娘髮薄不勝梳。
看見秋眉換新綠，
二十男兒那刺促。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
The southwind blows the mountains: the mountains become plains.
The King of the gods sends his servant to sweep up the sea.
When the peach-blossoms of the fairy-queen have reddened a thousand times
How many deaths have the long-lived men died?

The blue manes of the piebald horses are mottled with coins.
Willows this sweet spring wave among whirling vapours.
The flute-player persuades me to drink wine from the gold beaker.
Unless I calm my blood and soul, how shall I live?

I say to the general: it is not necessary to drink too much;
For naturally the hero cannot find his master in this world.
Buy silk to embroider the clothes of Pin-yuan-chuan.
All the wine we have, we can only sprinkle it on his earth.

From the mouth of the Jade Toad the water-clock hurries time.
The hair of the young dancer is too frail for the comb.
I see the brow of autumn changing into the freshest green:
Why should the young man of twenty be always a slave?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
The southwind blows the mountains: the mountains become plains.
The King of the gods sends his servant to sweep up the sea.
When the peach-blossoms of the fairy-queen have reddened a thousand times
How many deaths have the long-lived men died?
The blue manes of the piebald horses are mottled with coins.
Willows this sweet spring wave among whirling vapours.
The flute-player persuades me to drink wine from the gold beaker.
Unless I calm my blood and soul, how shall I live?
I say to the general: it is not necessary to drink too much;
For naturally the hero cannot find his master in this world.
Buy silk to embroider the clothes of Pin-yuan-chuan.
All the wine we have, we can only sprinkle it on his earth.
From the mouth of the Jade Toad the water-clock hurries time.
The hair of the young dancer is too frail for the comb.
I see the brow of autumn changing into the freshest green:
Why should the young man of twenty be always a slave?
<End Formatted Translation>