To Meng Hao-jan
I love the Master, Meng Hao-jan,
A free spirit known the whole world through.
In the flush of youth he spurned the cap and carriage,
And rests now, white-haired with age, among clouds and pines.
Drunk in moonlight, often “smitten by the sage,”
Or led astray by flowers, he does not serve his lord.
The highest mountain—how can I look to climb it?
I can do no more than kneel to his pure fragrance.
A free spirit known the whole world through.
In the flush of youth he spurned the cap and carriage,
And rests now, white-haired with age, among clouds and pines.
Drunk in moonlight, often “smitten by the sage,”
Or led astray by flowers, he does not serve his lord.
The highest mountain—how can I look to climb it?
I can do no more than kneel to his pure fragrance.
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