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Chysanthemums at Tao Qian's Memorial Temple near Lushan
On The Ninth (1)
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Li Bo 699-762
Today the sky is fine,
The water green
and autumn's mountains gleaming.
I take the gourd
and pour some "Rose-cloud Nector",
Pluck a chrysanthemum
and float cold petals on it.
The land extends far
pine and stone are ancient,
The wind carries aloft
the clarity of string and reed.
A peek in the goblet reflects a joyful face,
Alone I smile and then drink myself.
A fallen hat
drunk beneath mountain moon,
In vain I sing of missing my friend.
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Jiǔ Rì
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Lǐ Bái 699-762
Jīn rì yúnjǐnɡ hǎo,
Shuǐ lǜ qiūshān mínɡ.
Xié hú zhuó liúxiá,
Qiān jú fàn hán rónɡ.
Dì yuǎn sōnɡshí ɡǔ,
Fēnɡ yánɡ xiánɡuǎn qīnɡ.
Kuī shānɡ zhào huān yán,
Dú xiào hái zì qīnɡ.
Luò mào zuì shān yuè,
Kōnɡ ɡē huái yǒu shēnɡ.
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Notes: Translation from Paula Varsano's great book on Li Bo, Tracking the Banished Immortal, The Poetry of Li Bo and Its Critical Reception, University of Hawaii Press, 2003. Page 279.
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