Li Bai

"花間一壺酒，獨酌無相親。 舉杯邀明月，對影成三人。 月既不解飲，影徒隨我身。 暫伴月將影，行樂須及春。 我歌月徘徊，我舞影零亂。 醒時同交歡，醉後各分散。 永結無情遊，相期邈雲漢。"

"飛流直下三千尺，疑是銀河落九天。"

"危楼高百尺，手可摘星辰。 不敢高声语，恐惊天上人。"

"床前明月光，疑是地上霜。 舉頭望明月，低頭思故鄉。"

"對酒不覺暝，落花盈我衣。"

"云想衣裳花想容，春风拂槛露华浓。 若非群玉山头见，会向瑶台月下逢。"

"君不见，黄河之水天上来，奔流到海不复回。"

"問余何意棲碧山，笑而不答心自閒。 桃花流水窅然去，別有天地非人間。"

"From the walls of Baidi high in the colored dawn To Jiangling by night-fall is three hundred miles, Yet monkeys are still calling on both banks behind me To my boat these ten thousand mountains away."

"All the birds have flown up and gone; A lonely cloud floats leisurely by. We never tire of looking at each other— Only the mountain and I."

"镜湖三百里，菡萏发荷花。 五月西施采，人看隘若耶。 回舟不待月，归去越王家。"

"蜀道之难，难于上青天！"

"长风破浪会有时， 直挂云帆济沧海。"

"朝辞白帝彩云间，千里江陵一日还。 两岸猿声啼不住，轻舟已过万重山。"

"且樂生前一杯酒，何須身後千載名。"

"處世若大夢，胡爲勞其生？"

"Li Po's style is swift, yet never careless; lively, yet never informal. But his intellectual outlook was low and sordid. In nine poems out of ten he deals with nothing but wine or women."

"The world acclaims Li Po as its master poet. I grant that his works show unparalleled talent and originality, but not one in ten contains any moral reflection or deeper meaning."

"Li Bai could turn sweet nectar into verses fine. Drunk in the capital, he'd lie in shops of wine. Even imperial summons proudly he'd decline, Saying immortals could not leave the drink divine."

"Tu's poems," she said, "are known for their workmanship and artistic refinement, while Li's poems are known for their freedom and naturalness of expression. I prefer the vivacity of Li Po to the severity of Tu Fu." "Tu Fu is the acknowledged king of poets," said I, "and he is taken by most people as their model. Why do you prefer Li Po?" "Of course," said she, "as for perfection of form and maturity of thought, Tu is the undisputed master, but Li Po's poems have the wayward charm of a nymph. His lines come naturally like falling flowers and flowing water, and are so much lovelier for their spontaneity. I am not saying that Tu is second to Li; only personally I feel, not that I love Tu less, but that I love Li more."

"Li Po is China's prince of vagabond poets, with his drink, his dread of officialdom, his companionship with the moon, his love of high mountain scenery, and his constant aspiration: "Oh, could I but hold a celestial sword / And stab a whale across the seas!" Li Po's romanticism ended finally in his death from reaching for the shadow of the moon in the water in a drunken fit and falling overboard. Good, infinitely good, that the staid and apparently unfeeling Chinese could sometimes reach for the shadow of the moon and die such a poetic death!"