Of all our joys, this must be the deepest

From David Hintons’ translation of Li Po – The Selected Poems of Li Po:

It’s April in Ch’ang-an, these thousand
blossoms making a brocade of daylight.

Who can bear spring’s lonely sorrows, who face it without wine? It’s the only way.

Success or failure, life long or short:
our fate’s given by Changemaker at birth.

But a single cup evens out life and death, our ten thousand concerns unfathomed,

and once I’m drunk, all heaven and earth vanish, leaving me suddenly alone in bed,

forgetting that person I am even exists.
Of all our joys, this must be the deepest.

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