Who can speak of immortality when simply

staying alive makes such sad fools of us?

We long for those peaks of the immortals, 

but they’re far-off, and roads trail away

early. Coming and going together, we’ve

always shared the same joys and sorrows.

Resting in shade, we may seem unrelated,

but living out in the sun, we never part.

This togetherness isn’t forever, though.

Soon, we’ll smother in darkness. The body

can’t last, and all memory of us also ends.

It sears the five feelings. But in our 

good works, we bequeath our love through 

generations. How can you spare any effort?

Though it may be true wine dispels sorrow,

how can such trifles ever compare to this? 

(Translated by David Hinton

Copper Canyon Press, 1993)