The Jade Mountain/To My Retired Friend Wêi
TO MY RETIRED FRIEND WÊI
It is almost as hard for friends to meetAs for the morning and evening stars.Tonight then is a rare event,Joining, in the candlelight,Two men who were young not long agoBut now are turning grey at the temples.. . . To find that half our friends are deadShocks us, burns our hearts with grief.We little guessed it would be twenty yearsBefore I could visit you again.When I went away, you were still unmarried;But now these boys and girls in a row Are very kind to their father's old friend.They ask me where I have been on my journey;And then, when we have talked awhile,They bring and show me wines and dishes,Spring chives cut in the night-rainAnd brown rice cooked freshly a special way.. . . My host proclaims it a festival,He urges me to drink ten cups—But what ten cups could make me as drunkAs I always am with your love in my heart?. . . Tomorrow the mountains will separate us;After tomorrow—who can say?