ing with Tu Fu, musing over old times. I fear that even against my wishes, my good friend has made it impossible for me to uphold sobriety. Nevertheless, I am yours to command."
Said the Emperor, "I would have you imprison the enchantment of this moment in a written picture, that it need never be forgotten."
As Ming Huang spoke, two ladies of the Pear Garden stepped forward and held up a pink silk screen. The silk had been well sized and treated for writing by severe beating.
Another lady stepped forward carrying an ink stick, highly scented, and an ink slab.
Li Po swayed somewhat, but he set to work valiantly. Before doing so, however, he studied Yang Kuei-fei intently, her moth-eyebrows, the swelling grace of her breasts, the slender beauty of a superb body. Momentarily she was standing beside the Emperor, barely tall enough to reach to his heart. How lovely she was. Li Po took a deep breath. For a moment, he ate ink as he moistened his brush. Never had the wine so excited his desires. Then with a flourish he commenced to write, chanting the verse as he did so. That night he was inspired.
"In all the clouds he sees her light robes trail,
And roses seem beholden to her face;
O'er scented balustrade the scented gale
Bows warm from Spring, and dew-drops form apace.
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