将进酒

Do you not see — the Yellow River's water, falling out of heaven,
racing to the sea and never coming back?
Do you not see — in the bright mirror of the hall, grief at white hair:
black silk at dawn, by evening turned to snow?
When life gives you its moment, drink it to the bottom;
never let a gold cup stand empty under the moon.
Heaven made me — there must be a use for me.
Scatter a thousand in gold; it comes round again.
Boil the lamb, butcher the ox, let us take our pleasure —
three hundred cups before we are done.
Master Cen. Danqiu.
Bring in the wine. Let no cup stop.
I will sing you a song — lend me your ears.
Bells and drums, fine food and jade are not worth the prizing;
all I ask is to stay drunk and never sober again.
The sages of old were left in silence;
only the drinkers kept their names.
The Prince of Chen once feasted at Pingle Hall,
ten thousand cash a cask, and laughter without limit.
Why does my host say he is short of money?
Go straight out and buy more — I will pour for you.
My dappled horse, my thousand-gold furs —
call the boy, trade them for fine wine,
and together we will drown ten thousand years of sorrow.