Don't go climbing up to the blue clouds

Don't go climbing up to the blue clouds—
the blue clouds are rife with passion and hate,
everyone a wise man, bragging of know-how and vision,
flattening each other in the scramble for merit and power.
Fish get chowdered because they swallow the bait,
moths burn up when they bumble into the lamp.
Better come drink wine with me,
let yourself go, get roaring, roaring drunk.
Author of original: 
Po Chü-i
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