Don’t you see the Yellow River pouring from heaven,
Rushing to the sea, never to return?
Don’t you see, in the hall the mirror is saddened
By the grey hair?—
Young and dark at dawn, but at dusk snowy!
Ah, let’s enjoy ourselves while we can—
It’s wrong to set goblets idle, in the glory of the moon.
I was created by Heaven, certainly not for nothing.
As for money, it scatters and gathers as money should.
For the moment—mutton, beef, and wine—
Three hundred cups make but one gulp.
Cheers, my friend, my brother!
Don’t stop your cups.
Let me sing a song for you,
Listen carefully please.
But music and delicacies are nothing:
I long to dwell in drunkenness, and
Never wake up to a sober world.
In oblivion all those sages have died.
History knows only great drinkers.
Remember how flavour and humour flew
At the wronged prince’s drinking spree.
And why should I now, the host, care about money?
I’ve got everything, to pay for you and me—
Here’s my precious horse, here’s my priceless fur.
Tell the boy to give them for the wine.
Let’s drink on, to end the endless worry!