I lift my drink and sing a song,
for who knows if life be short or long.
Man's life is but the morning dew,
past days many, future ones few.
The melancholy my heart begets,
comes from cares I cannot forget.
Who can unravel these woes of mine?
I know but one man...the God of Wine!
Disciples dressed in blue,
my heart worries for you.
You are the cause,
of this song without pause.
Across the bank a deer bleats
in the wild where it eats.
Honoured guests I salute!
Strike the harp! Play the flute!
Bright is the moon's spark;
never ceasing, never dark.
Thoughts of you from deep inside;
cannot settle, cannot subside.
Stars around the moon are few,
southward the crows flew.
Flying with no rest,
where shall they nest?
No mountain too steep,
no ocean too deep.
Sages rush when guests call,
so at their feet...the empire does fall!
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