<Header>
<Author: 李賀>
<Title: 秦宮詩>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1970>
<BookName: The Poems of Li Ho>
<Translator: J. D. Frodsham>
<TranslatedTitle: Ch‘in Kung>
<BookPage: 163-164>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1, 4, 5>
<End Header>
<Poem>
越羅衫袂迎春風，
玉刻麒麟腰帶紅。
樓頭曲宴仙人語，
帳底吹笙香霧濃。
人間酒暖春茫茫，
花枝入簾白日長。
飛窗複道傳籌飲，
十夜銅盤膩燭黃。
禿衿小袖調鸚鵡，
紫繡麻䪗踏哮虎。
斫桂燒金待曉筵，
白鹿青蘇夜半煮。
桐英永巷騎新馬，
內屋深屏生色畫。
開門爛用水衡錢，
卷起黃河向身瀉。
皇天厄運猶曾裂，
秦宮一生花底活。
鸞篦奪得不還人，
醉睡氍毺滿堂月。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
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.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
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.
<End Formatted Translation>