Li Po the Chinese Poet
��Your joyous spirit swelling over in your heart, You called for me ever at your residence, Your mansion whose red gate was guarded hy men, Holding their spears in stately rows. Amid quaintly cut stones and trimmed bamboos A rivulet ran, brimming with limpid water. We went up and sat in the waterside pavilion, And poured forth our souls in heroic discourses. A word between us is precious like white jade, And a pledge of ours more than yellow gold. I was not unworthy of you, I venture to say, And swore by the Blue Bird on my fidelity.
��The happy magpie among the five-colored clouds Came, flying and crying, from heaven. The mandate of my pardon arrived, I was told, And I could return from banishment in Yeh-lang. It was as if warmth enlivened the frozen vale, Or fire and flame sprang from the dead ashes.
�� ��Still the dogs of Chieh bark at Yao, And the Tartar crew mock at the imperial command. In the middle of the night I sigh four and five times, Worrying ever over the great empire's affairs. Still the war banners cover the sides of the two moun- tains, Between which flows the Yellow River. Our generals like frightened fowls dare not advance, But linger on, watering their idle horses. Ah, where shall we find a Hu-I, the archer,
1 This, the longest poem in the entire collection of Li Po's works*, is in a way his autobiography. It was [178]
�� �
