ON HSIEH T’IAO’S TOWER IN HSÜAN-CHOU: A FAREWELL DINNER FOR SHU YÜN

Leaving our departures behind, yesterday’s

sunlight is light I couldn’t hold back,

and throwing my heart into confusion, today’s

sunlight is light bringing tangled sorrows.

Facing ten-thousand-mile winds, autumn geese leaving,
we can still laugh and drink in this tower tonight,

chant poems of Immortality Land, ancient word-bones.
The clarity of Hsieh T’iao reappears here among us:

all embracing, thoughts breaking free into flight,
we ascend azure heaven, gaze into a bright moon.

But slice water with a knife, and water still flows,
empty a winecup to end grief, and grief remains grief.

You never get what you want in this life, so why not
shake your hair loose on a boat at play in dawn light?