Throwing Off My Sadness

An autumn wind blows over the earth, The grasses die, Mount Hua becomes a sapphire shadow In the chill of dusk, Though I have reached my twentieth year, I've missed my goal. My whole heart sad and withered As a dying orchid. Clothes like the feathers of a flying guail, Horse like a hound. Where the road forks I beat my sword With a brazen roar. Dismounting at a tavern I shed My autumn gown, Wishing to pledge it for a jar Of Yi-yang wine. Deep in the jar I called on Heaven No clouds rolled back, The white day stretched a thousand leagues, Cold and forlorn, My host urged me to cultivate Both body and soul, Nor care at all if the vulgar crowd Made mock of me.