Poetry - 8

For the first in the poetry series, go here. 

The next poem in the book is by a Chinese poet that I've never heard of before, Li Po. 

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.
Bur forever agreed on dispassionate revels,
We promised to meet in the far Milky Way.

What a lovely poem!  I love the idea of inviting the moon to a party.  For me personally, it has always been easiest to commune with nature late at night.  I've just never thought of going so far as extending a drink.  After I'm done writing this, I think I'll go get a glass of brandy and see if the moon would like some company.
As to the actual poetry, I've instantly fallen in love with the last line of the first stanza.  'To find pleasure in life, make the most of spring.'  I can tell you that here in the upper midwest, spring can be a tough commodity.  Many years we go right from winter to summer.  I treasure those few days. 
A note about the author.  According to traditon, Li Po supposedly drowned while attempting to embrace the moon's reflection in some water.  So . . . I guess, be careful out there.  That inconstant moon can sometimes be troublesome.