Poem For Wei Ba

Often a man's life is such

that he seldom sees his friends,

like the constellations Shen and Shang

which never share the same sky.

If not this evening, then what evening

should we share this lamp light?

How long can our youth and vigor last?

The hair at our temples is already gray.

We inquire about old acquaintances

to find that half are ghosts--

shocked cries betray

the torment of our hearts.

How could I have known

that it would be twenty years

before I again entered

your honored home.

When we parted last

you were yet unmarried;

now your sons and daughters

line up in a smiling row

to greet their father's friend.

They ask whence I have come

but before I can answer all questions

you chase them off

to bring wine and cups.

In the night rain, chives are cut

for the freshly steamed rice

mixed with yellow millet.

Saying how difficult it has been

for us to meet at last,

you pour ten cups in a row!

But even after ten cups

I'm not drunk, being so moved

by your lasting friendship.

Tomorrow we will be separated

by the peaks of mountains,

each of our worldly affairs

lost to the other's sight.