I had a little pony,
His name was Dapple-gray,
I lent him to a lady
To ride a mile away;
She whipped him, she slashed him,
She rode him through the mire;
I would not lend my pony now
For all the lady's hire.

I had a little hen, the prettiest ever seen,
She washed me the dishes and kept the house clean.

She went to the mill to fetch me some flour,
She brought it home in less than an hour.

She baked me my bread, she brewed me my ale,
She sat by the fire and told many a fine tale.

There was an Old Man of Coblenz,
The length of whose legs was immense;
He went with one prance, from Turkey to France,
That surprising Old Man of Coblenz.

I gathered marble Venus in my arms,
Just as the rabble crowded on the stair.
I said, For her the sea gave up its storms;
And gently on her body breathed the air.
Alas, she fell, and broke to many pieces:
Discovered later by a Professor,
He cried, " New forms, new forms! " And wrote a thesis.

I figured
anything anybody
could do a lot of I
could do a little
of

There was an old man with a light,
Who was dressed in a garment of white;
He held a small candle, with never a handle,
And danced all the merry long night.

I face the yellow flowers,
silent, saying nothing.
The yellow flowers face me
as if they had feeling.
Slender stems, leaf after leaf
touched with frosty breath;
heavy flowers, petal after petal
alive with the clarity of autumn.

I don't understand it myself —
for some time now I've stopped writing poems!
Could I have lost the " brush of Magistrate Chiang? "
Or could the " shuttle of Master Hsieh " have broken my teeth?
Feelings for the moon? As heavy as wine!
Love for the flowers? Overflows like waves!
Spirit of poetry, quickly, come back!
Don't let the spring go by without any poems.

I don't care for women,
But men make me burn with desire.
As men are stronger than women,
So are the loves they inflame.

I don't believe in becoming a Buddha,
reborn in Paradise;
and talk of Immortals flying off in broad daylight
is nonsense.
All I'll do is swim my way through a lifetime of wine —
a much better plan than struggling to live for a thousand years!