Waiting for Wine That Doesn’t Come (by Li Po)

Jade winejars tied in blue silk . . . .

What’s taking that wineseller so long?


Mountain flowers smiling, taunting me,

it’s the perfect time to sip some wine,


ladle it out beneath my east window

at dusk, wandering orioles back again.


Spring breezes and their drunken guest:

today, we were meant for each other.


Translated by David Hinton



About timwaterman

I am a landscape architect, urbanist, writer, and lecturer based in London.

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