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Chysanthemums at Tao Qian's Memorial Temple near Lushan
On The Ninth (2)
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Li Bo 699-762
Today the weather's fine,
The river's green
autumn mountains bright.
I carry my gourd
pour out some red wine,
Pluck a chrysanthemum
float it on the cold brew.
The vista is wide
pines and stones are timeless,
The wind carries
notes of qin and flute.
A peak in the goblet
reflects a happy face,
I chuckle to myself
pour out another cup.
My hat askew
the mountains and moon are drunk,
To an empty sky
I sing
of missing my friends.
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Jiǔrì
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Lǐ Bó 699-762
Jīnrì yún jǐng hǎo,
Shuǐ lǜ qiū shān míng.
Xié hú zhuó liuxiá,
Qiān jú fàn hán róng.
Dì yuǎ sōng shí gǔ,
Fēng yáng xián guǎn qīng.
Kuī shāng zhào huānyán,
Dú xiào hái zì qīng.
Luò mào zuì shān yuè,
Kōng gē huáiyǒu shēng.
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