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A Drunken Song — Given to Jeon Iji (全履之)醉歌行。贈全履之

Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) 東國李相國集 · Yi Gyubo · Compiled 1241 (Goryeo, 28th year of King Gojong); revised and enlarged 1251 · 1 passages · 118 Chinese characters · reading time 1.1 min

Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) Former Collection, Book 1 The collected writings of Yi Gyubo of Goryeo, gathered and cut in woodblock by his son Yi Ham in 1241 and revised and enlarged by his grandson Yi Ikbae in 1251. It holds poems and rhapsodies, memorials and reports sent up to the king, records written for temples and pagodas, stele and tomb inscriptions, letters and prefaces, and the state letters that passed to and from the Mongols during the invasions. The Lay of King Dongmyeong, which sings the founder of Goguryeo, stands in volume 3 of the first collection, and the daily life of a man who called himself the White Cloud Layman — with his wine, his zither and his verse — fills the later collection. The book closes with the last poem he wrote as his eyes failed and he laid down the brush, and with the dirge and tomb inscription others made for him after his death.

日無脛又無翼。胡爲劫劫飛走不少息。日來日去暮復朝。使我鬢髮如䬶顔如墨。吾欲東走扶桑看日上。西入濛汜觀日匿。日上時遮擁金烏拉翼墜。日匿處牽挽𦏁和使沈醉。是時日未行。留待𦏁和醒酒烏生翅。三百六十日三千。一百年作一千年。使我兩頰更赤雙鬢玄。日換美酒醉倒放顚狂。問君能有許多錢。

The sun has no shins and no wings, so why does it fly and run so busily, never resting for a moment? The sun comes and the sun goes; dusk falls and it is morning again, turning my temple-hair to mugwort stalks and my face to ink. I would run east to Fusang (扶桑) and watch the sun rise, and enter Mengsi (濛汜) in the west and watch the sun hide. When the sun rises I will block and seize the golden crow, snap its wings and bring it down; and where the sun hides I will drag Xihe (羲和) over and get him thoroughly drunk. If at that time the sun cannot move on, I will wait for Xihe to sober up and for the crow's wings to grow back. I will make three hundred and sixty days into three thousand, and turn a hundred years into a thousand, making my two cheeks red again and my temple-hair black. Day after day I will trade it all for good wine, fall down drunk, and carry on like a madman. But I ask you — have you that much money?