<Header>
<Author: 李白>
<Title: 春夜宴桃李園序>
<Format: 古詩>
<Year: 1884>
<BookName: GEMS OF CHINESE LITERATURE>
<Translator: HERBERT A. GILES>
<TranslatedTitle: LET US EAT, DRINK, AND BE MERRY./Eat, Drink, and be Merry>
<BookPage: 112-113>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1, 3, 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
夫天地者，萬物之逆旅也；
光陰者，百代之過客也。
而浮生若夢，爲歡幾何？
古人秉燭夜遊，良有以也。
況陽春召我以煙景，大塊假我以文章。
會桃花之芳園，序天倫之樂事。
羣季俊秀，皆爲惠連；
吾人詠歌，獨慚康樂。
幽賞未已，高談轉清。
開瓊筵以坐花，飛羽觴而醉月。
不有佳詠，何伸雅懷？
如詩不成，罰依金谷酒數。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
THE universe is but the lodging-house of all things
visible; light and darkness are the passing guests of
Time. Life is but a dream, with little joy therein; and
the ancients did well in seeking to lengthen their days by
stealing some hours from the night.
     And now the blooming spring beckons me with ver-
dant hand, while nature's wealth of eloquence lures me
forth,—forth to the fragrant bower of peach and plum,
to the joy of reunion with friends. There they meet,
my gentle, matchless brothers; and I, the poor poet,
unworthy to be their mate.    Then, ere the first thrill
passes away, comes flow of subtle wit, and the feast
spread, while couched upon flowers, amid flashing cups,
we drink deep draughts to the moon. And as, without
the solace of composition, there is no outlet for the
pent-up soul, it was ruled that he who did not contri-
bute his verse should suffer the penalty of the “Golden
Valley”
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
0
THE universe is but the lodging-house of all things visible;
light and darkness
are the passing guests of Time.
Life is but a dream,
with little joy therein;
and the ancients by stealing some hours from the night.
did well in seeking to lengthen their days
And now the blooming spring beckons me with ver-dant hand,
while nature's wealth of eloquence lures me forth,
—forth to the fragrant bower of peach and plum,
to the joy of reunion with friends. 
There they meet,
my gentle, matchless brothers;
and I, the poor poet,
unworthy to be their mate.
Then, ere the first thrill passes away,
comes flow of subtle wit,
and the feast spread, while couched upon flowers, amid flashing cups,
we drink deep draughts to the moon. 
And as, without the solace of composition, 
there is no outlet for the pent-up soul, 
it was ruled that he who did not contri-bute his verse
should suffer the penalty of the “Golden Valley”
<End Formatted Translation>