To The Recluse, Wei Pa
Often in this life of ours we resemble, in our failure to meet, the Shen and
Shang constellations, one of which rises as the other one sets. What lucky
chance is it, then, that brings us together this evening under the light of
this same lamp? Youth and vigor last but a little time. -- Each of us now has
greying temples. Half of the friends we ask each other about are dead, and our
shocked cries sear the heart. Who could have guessed that it would be twenty
years before I sat once more beneath your roof? Last time we parted you were
still unmarried, but now here suddenly is a row of boys and girls who
smilingly pay their respects to their father's old friend. They ask me where I
have come from; but before I have finished dealing with their questions, the
children are hurried off to fetch us wine. Spring chives are cut in the rainy
dark, and there is freshly steamed rice mixed with yellow millet. `Come, we
don't meet often!' you hospitably urge, pouring out ten cupfuls in rapid
succession. That I am still not drunk after ten cups of wine is due to the
strength of the emotion which your unchanging friendship inspires. Tomorrow
the peak will lie between us, and each will be lost to the other, swallowed up
in the world's affairs.
Related quotes
To the Recluse, Wei Pa
Often in this life of ours we resemble, in our failure to meet, the Shen and
Shang constellations, one of which rises as the other one sets. What lucky
chance is it, then, that brings us together this evening under the light of
this same lamp? Youth and vigor last but a little time. --- Each of us now has
greying temples. Half of the friends we ask each other about are dead, and our
shocked cries sear the heart. Who could have guessed that it would be twenty
years before I sat once more beneath your roof? Last time we parted you were
still unmarried, but now here suddenly is a row of boys and girls who
smilingly pay their respects to their father's old friend. They ask me where I
have come from; but before I have finished dealing with their questions, the
children are hurried off to fetch us wine. Spring chives are cut in the rainy
dark, and there is freshly steamed rice mixed with yellow millet. `Come, we
don't meet often!' you hospitably urge, pouring out ten cupfuls in rapid
succession. That I am still not drunk after ten cups of wine is due to the
strength of the emotion which your unchanging friendship inspires. Tomorrow
the peak will lie between us, and each will be lost to the other, swallowed up
in the world's affairs.
Poem For Wei Ba
Often a man's life is such
that he seldom sees his friends,
like the constellations Shen and Shang
which never share the same sky.
If not this evening, then what evening
should we share this lamp light?
How long can our youth and vigor last?
The hair at our temples is already gray.
We inquire about old acquaintances
to find that half are ghosts--
shocked cries betray
the torment of our hearts.
How could I have known
that it would be twenty years
before I again entered
your honored home.
When we parted last
you were yet unmarried;
now your sons and daughters
line up in a smiling row
to greet their father's friend.
They ask whence I have come
but before I can answer all questions
you chase them off
to bring wine and cups.
In the night rain, chives are cut
for the freshly steamed rice
mixed with yellow millet.
Saying how difficult it has been
for us to meet at last,
you pour ten cups in a row!
But even after ten cups
I'm not drunk, being so moved
by your lasting friendship.
Tomorrow we will be separated
by the peaks of mountains,
each of our worldly affairs
lost to the other's sight.
Drinking Alone in the Moonlight
Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are
friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.
Version 2
Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine,
No friends at hand, so I poured alone;
I raised my cup to invite the moon,
Turned to my shadow, and we became three.
Now the moon had never learned about drinking,
And my shadow had merely followed my form,
But I quickly made friends with the moon and my shadow;
To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring.
Whenever I sang, the moon swayed with me;
Whenever I danced, my shadow went wild.
Drinking, we shared our enjoyment together;
Drunk, then each went off on his own.
But forever agreed on dispassionate revels,
We promised to meet in the far Milky Way.
A Reunion
Often a man's life is such
that he seldom sees his friends,
like the night and day
never sharing the same hours
In the skies
Seldom does he share
His evenings with friends
Or his mornings
His lamp light unshared
His mornings unspent
How long will this
Distance last?
Hairs have turned
White and lesser
As we inquire about
Friends and other
Acquaintances only
To find out that half of
Them have turned
To ghosts,
Shocks and torments
Of this heart, cries
But I will try again
To enter your home
Twenty five years
And now you have
Two sons and three
Daughters to greet
Me by the door
I thought you never
Married and they all
Kiss my hands and
Before I can ask the
Questions you drive
Them off to the grounds
To play away from us
As we talk about
Lasting friendships
And how we have
Almost forgotten them
Tomorrow I will be drunk
Again back to my own
Affairs in the big city
We will be separated
Again by these peaks
Of mountains and we
Shall again lose each
Other’s friendly views.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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240
a reunion
Often a man's life is such
that he seldom sees his friends,
like the night and day
never sharing the same hours
In the skies
Seldom does he share
His evenings with friends
Or his mornings
His lamp light unshared
His mornings unspent
How long will this
Distance last?
Hairs have turned
White and lesser
As we inquire about
Friends and other
Acquaintances only
To find out that half of
Them have turned
To ghosts,
Shocks and torments
Of this heart, cries
But I will try again
To enter your home
Twenty five years
And now you have
Two sons and three
Daughters to greet
Me by the door
I thought you never
Married and they all
Kiss my hands and
Before I can ask the
Questions you drive
Them off to the grounds
To play away from us
As we talk about
Lasting friendships
And how we have
Almost forgotten them
Tomorrow I will be drunk
Again back to my own
Affairs in the big city
We will be separated
Again by these peaks
Of mountains and we
Shall again lose each
Other’s friendly views.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alone And Drinking Under The Moon
Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are
friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.
Wine (Love Poem)
Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day
poem by Ian Beckett
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The Boys And Girls I Went To School With
The boys and girls I went to school with from me now far away
And even some of them not living now where the dead are they lay
And in distant flights of fancy I fancy I see them yet
And them I still remember and them I won't forget.
The boys and girls I went to school with the years have left them slow
And were I to meet them on the street perhaps them I''d not know
For the years they leave us looking older and there''s no turning back the hands of time
And those I went to school with like me now long past their prime.
Many of the boys and girls I went to school with live distant from Millstreet
And we well might be strangers now if by chance we did meet
In my mental pictures of them they have not aged a day
But reality is different and 'tis always been that way.
Many of the boys and girls I went to school with in Millstreet our Home -town
Have left that green old countryside where Finnow babbles down
For to join with the great Blackwater on it''s journey to the sea
Still their innocence and youthfulness will always be with me.
The changes keep on happening and nothing seems to last
Still we cling on to our memories and we can''t deny our past
And though we may now be strangers were we to meet again
The boys and girls I went to school with young in my thoughts remain.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Evening Hunger
When hunger came
I went to kitchen
Cooked rice
Made a soup of chicken
Hunger lessened
Had a glass of wine
Felt not comfortable
To have the food alone
Took the mobile phone
Called to him
Who lives same as I
Welcoming sudden invitation
He is to come
Prepared the table for two
Second glass of wine
Toasted with the friend
We had a happy time
Talking about problems
Transcendent solution
To the boarding evening
Tomorrow
How it will be
Hunger is not the curry for meal all the time
Wine is not the friend for loneliness all the time
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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New Friends
Everyone I meet as I walk through life,
I take to my heart as a friend.
I try not to make enemies
out of anyone I meet.
Friendship means a lot to me.
Some people say I walk with angels.
I am not so sure about that.
What I am sure of
is that I walk with friends
wherever I may go.
My arms are always open
to help and greet any stranger
that I may meet.
The world to me is filled with strangers
I have yet to know.
Strangers who will become,
another new friend
when we chance to meet.
poem by David Harris
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Actually I Have Nothing To Say To You
so we meet again and you are seated
next to me
by chance our eyes meet and we remember the times
when once we were together
we were not lovers
we may think we were friends we ate together till the night comes
we drank on the same glass
of wine when our heads began to fly bubbles in the air
you ask me if i remember
how can i forget? it is you and it is always me still
by chance we meet again and
our eyes meet like the headlights
of two cars colliding one dark night
i still remember
there is nothing that hurts that always last
i still remember and i know you also remember
the screeching on the streets and the marks of shocked tires
we do not like to remember that which hurt us both
you have nothing to say and actually to be honest and
blatant about this meeting by chance
i have nothing to say but i could have told you i want simply to forget
you but i can't
forget you and erase you
you always leave this mark that i cannot just hate and believe
that you do not exist at all
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chiang Chin Chiu
See the waters of the Yellow River leap down from Heaven, Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again! See at the mirror
in the High Hall Aged men bewailing white locks - In the morning, threads of silk, In the evening flakes of snow. Snatch the joys
of life as they come and use them to the full; Do not leave the silver cup idly glinting at the moon. The things that Heaven made
Man was meant to use; A thousand guilders scattered to the wind may come back again. Roast mutton and sliced beef will only
taste well If you drink with them at one sitting three hundred cups. Great Master Ts'êen, Doctor Tan-ch'iu, Here is wine, do not
stop drinking But listen, please, and I will sing you a song. Bells and drums and fine food, what are they to me Who only want
to get drunk and never again be sober? The Saints and Sages of old times are all stock and still, Only the might drinkers of wine
have left a name behind. When the prince of Ch'êen gave a feast in the Palace of P'ing-lo With twenty thousand gallons of wine
he loosed mirth and play. The master of the feast must not cry that his money is all spent; Let him send to the tavern and fetch
wine to keep our tankards filled. His five-flower horse and thousand-guilder coat - Let him call the boy to take them along and
pawn them for good wine, That drinking together we may drive away the sorrows of a thousand years.
First Time And Lvst Time
half bottle of red wine
half sense of my body
lighting cigar is lighting my body
reminding me of that ice-wine
you told me it was your first time
drank such a sweet wine
you liked that passion after drunk
i believe so as i believe in you
you told me you had such lots first time
with me
even your first time
i believed, now i wonder
first time is not so important
i had told you
being honest to each other is the most
i had told you so
now you are enjoying your first time
with someone else
i do hope
he will believe you forever
someone said
even there is a lie
in the word believe
i shocked for his wisdom
f^ck'n that first time
i do hope you have two v
as you have in your name
maybe more v
but why you call it first time
why not call it your lvst time
enjoy your first time
enjoy your lvst time
cause you are not so young to own
such lots of first time
In spring and summer you were mine
In spring and summer you were mine
and we dwelt in great felicity
drinking champagne and wine
the world was beautiful and free
but when your beauty was sure and sweet
when my life was at its prime
you did with destruction meet
and I was lost in time
as if forever wishing
to live a part of life over again
to have that summer and spring
just like then
as if chance did me remove
from the one I was destined to love.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Mask
In life you meet various people,
some cunning some innocently simple.
the two types are always disguised,
by a mask of emotions, carefully devised.
When you meet someone you cant be sure,
whether their heart is corrupt or pure.
' how much more time? ' you ask,
'before I get to know, the man behind the mask.'
Sometimes you are lucky enough,
to find a soft heart,
beneath an exterior that's rough.
but alas those unlucky souls,
who meet people with selfish goals.
They call them a friend and hold them dear,
but do not realise, that they are not as they appear.
It hurts a lot when 'friends' turn foes,
For sharp thorns do accompany the beautiful rose.
Now, I too hide the real me,
behind a mask put up for the world to see.
Too afraid to let it go,
in case a friend turns out to be a foe.
I meet people with a smile on my face,
but keep the mask handy, just in case.
Wish I could meet someone true,
so I could throw away the mask,
with which I grew.
poem by Dipti Date Gokhale
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And I Under The Moon
The jug and I under the moon
and my lips around the neck of the bottle of wine,
by the moon light is it full of the flowers dew,
I pour the scarcity of each dropp and it's association
against the bamboo and I watch to need the heron it's
crest off i see it go by as a dragons shadow independently.
Moving off, 'Therefore before the lifting of the glass,
I invite you because of our friendship,
revalations are made as to my shadow which then makes up
the moon myself and it's our three.
Is it not known my shadow follows each movement of my body
swaying as the leaves from which the rice it makes is simply.
Moon of moon shining down between shows us company
and my shadow because I am by you for wine maintained,
as to the spring flowing forth nothing is forever
and would be assisted wise are you adjusted too practice
each our lips the neck of the bottle of wine our pleasure.
As for me and as for you the moon I who am I have begun
babmboo in sleep before I go, the stand gently rising,
you dance and the shadow it moves strangely
and with you including swan song.
I' Between; Still you be looking up at the dark sky
moon smiling down and of which you are consciously, moving.
Afterwards, and you rejoice mutually; exclusively then thus do I
and Each one tried where it was, we laid down our heads
friend of moon, knew us drunk to go off searching for the shadow of your friend. Passion is less this night when travelling.
Under the moon and friends are friends, permits that fact, we are.
l.p.
poem by Is It Poetry
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A Good Old Man
"Children, you will soon lay me in the ground. Then you are to be cheerful, and drink some of this wine; for I have lived a joyful life before God all my days." (Life of Ernst Maurice Arndt. London. 1879. P. 38.)
The old man sate beside the fire,
His years fourscore and two,
His locks were thin and wintry-white,
But his eyes were bright and blue.
His children's children round him stood,
His face with joy did shine;
And he called for a glass, and placed on board
A pint of the ruby wine.
And he said, "Now list to me, brave boys:
I've lived a life, thank God!
Full of bright hours and happy days,
And soon beneath the sod
"Your hands must lay my head. This glass
I fill with thanks to Him
Who made my cup through fourscore years
With joy to overbrim.
"There might be clouds; but they have passed;
For this I surely knew,
Behind the clouds there dwelt a sun
And a dome of glorious blue.
"There might be frets; but not with me
Might fret and murmur dwell;
For God, I knew, was judge of all,
And still he judgeth well.
"Then fill the sparkling glass, brave boys,
And quaff the wine with me
His gift whence flows to men all light
And love and liberty!
"And keep a stout heart in your breast,
And trust in God, brave boys;
And march right forward without fear,
And evermore rejoice.
"And when you lay my head, brave boys,
Beneath the cool green sod,
Remember how I walked in strength
And joy before my God."
poem by John Stuart Blackie from Littell's Living Age, vol. 144
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Power To All Our Friends
Power to all our friends
To the music that never ends
To the people we want to be
Baby, power to you and me
Theres some old man
Spends his life growing flowers
Caring for the bees
Power to the bees
Theres some old lady
Spends her days making wine
The wine tasted fine
Power to the vine
Power to the boys who played rock n roll
And made my life so sweet
Power to the girls I knew before
And those Ive yet to meet
Power to all our friends
To the music that never ends
To the people we want to be
Baby, power to you and me
Theres one strong man
Ploughing in the valley
Hes living off the land
Power to the land
Theres some young girl
Laying down in monte carlo
Laying in the sun
Power to the sun
Power to the boys who played rock n roll
And made my life so sweet
Power to the girls I knew before
And those Ive yet to meet
Power to all our friends
To the music that never ends
To the people we want to be
Baby, power to you and me
Power to the boys who played rock n roll
And made my life so sweet
Power to the girls I knew before
And those Ive yet to meet
Power to all our friends
To the music that never ends
To the people we want to be
Baby, power to you and me
To the music that never ends
Baby, power to all our friends
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A thousand cups of wine do not suffice when true friends meet, but half a sentence is too much when there is no meeting of minds.
There are some friends you don't meet for twenty years and when you meet them again it's as if no twenty years has happened - you're lucky when that happens. I feel the same about books.
quote by Norman MacCaig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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