<Header>
<Author: 李賀>
<Title: 秦王飲酒>
<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 KING DRINKS WINE>
<BookPage: 267>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1, 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
秦王騎虎遊八極，
劒光照空天自碧。
羲和敲日玻璃聲，
劫灰飛盡古今平。
龍頭瀉酒邀酒星，
金槽琵琶夜棖棖。
洞庭雨脚來吹笙，
酒酣喝月使倒行。
銀雲櫛櫛瑤殿明，
宮門掌事報一更。
花樓玉鳳聲嬌獰，
海綃紅文香淺清。
黃鵞跌舞千年觥，
仙人燭樹蠟煙輕，
清琴醉眼淚泓泓。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Riding a tiger this King rode through the eight Poles of Heaven:
The light of his sword lay on the sky: the sky grew more deeply blue.
He heard the tinkle of glass as a god knocked on the Sun.
Misfortunes fell away: history came to peace again.

Now from the dragon-head wine flows for the wine-guests.
Like a lyre in a golden case playing all night,
So do the flutes seem to be blown by the falling rain of the Tung-t'ing Lake.

In their drunkenness they call the moon to move away;
Mountains of silver clouds shine on the glowing palace of jade.

Now the gatekeeper says: "The first watch has come".
In painted galleries flutes sound like the tender voices of birds:
The delicate sea-yarn is scented, is luminous and crystalline.
The girls dance "the yellow goose is falling" and offer the King the wine of longevity:
Fairy candles puff up little bright vapours.
The lyres sing sadly. From the drunken eyes of the girls flow hot tears.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
Riding a tiger this King rode through the eight Poles of Heaven:
The light of his sword lay on the sky: the sky grew more deeply blue.
He heard the tinkle of glass as a god knocked on the Sun.
Misfortunes fell away: history came to peace again.
Now from the dragon-head wine flows for the wine-guests.
Like a lyre in a golden case playing all night,
So do the flutes seem to be blown by the falling rain of the Tung-t'ing Lake.
In their drunkenness they call the moon to move away;
Mountains of silver clouds shine on the glowing palace of jade.
Now the gatekeeper says: "The first watch has come".
In painted galleries flutes sound like the tender voices of birds:
The delicate sea-yarn is scented, is luminous and crystalline.
The girls dance "the yellow goose is falling" and offer the King the wine of longevity:
Fairy candles puff up little bright vapours.
The lyres sing sadly. From the drunken eyes of the girls flow hot tears.
<End Formatted Translation>