On the Thirteenth of the Ninth Month, Gathering Guests at the Inn, I Show This to the Several Elders九月十三日。會客旅舍。示諸先輩。
我李本仙枝。家在紫霞洞。與物本無機。曾把漢陰甕。胡爲人間世。失意翻愡恫。化衣猒洛塵。振履作商頌。蝘蜓嘲龜龍。鴟鴞笑鸞鳳。何忍折我腰。突梯事傝⿰鹵辱。長嘯出國門。大江凌洶湧。步趁嶺猿輕。吟答山鳥哢。咄咄固殊殷。遑遑寧比孔。歷干百里侯。無人記閑冗。何恨岐中岐。亦是夢裡夢。得酒每呼呌。狂言屢驚衆。糟肉慕陳暄。井甁笑張竦。間關到尙原。兩足幾繭尰。坐客皆詩豪。才名輕沈宋。聊斟杜酒香。爲洗阮途痛。笙歌咽喧塡。左右紅粧擁。玉鏡十眉開。金盃千指奉。我醉拂玉琴。快作數四弄。此遊眞可誇。得意聊自縱。信美非吾土。歸期迫飛鞚。丈夫貴適志。去駐何須捀。
The Yi are by origin a branch of the immortals, and their house stood in Jahadong (紫霞洞). Having by nature no scheming toward things, I early took up the jar of Hanneum (漢陰). Why then, in the world of men, do I lose my purpose and burn my heart instead? My clothes take the stain, and I loathe the dust of Luoyang; I shake out my shoes and sing the "Odes of Shang" (商頌). The lizard laughs at the turtle and the dragon, the owl laughs at the luan bird and the phoenix. How could I bear to bend my waist and serve, all smooth and shapeless, a worthless man? Whistling long, I go out the gate of the capital, and the great river surges violently up. My steps are light, following the monkeys of the pass; my chanting answers the twitter of mountain birds. My clucking of the tongue is nothing like Yin Hao's (殷浩), and how should my hurrying about be matched with Confucius'? I have met in turn the magistrates who govern their hundred li, but none writes down my idle and useless name. Why resent a fork within a fork of the road? This too is a dream inside a dream. When I get wine I am always calling out, and with wild words I often startle the crowd. For dregs and meat I admire Chen Xuan (陳暄); for the jar at the well I laugh at Zhang Song (張竦). Passing the hard road I came to the plain of Sangju, and how many times did both my feet blister and swell? The guests seated here are all champions of poetry, their talent and fame making light of Shen Quanqi and Song Zhiwen. For a while I pour the fragrant Dugang wine and wash away Ruan Ji's (阮籍) grief at the blocked road. Mouth organ and song are loud to the point of choking, and left and right I am ringed by the rouged ones. At the jade mirror ten brows are opened; a thousand fingers hold up the golden cups. Drunk, I shake out the jade zither and play three or four airs with a free hand. This revel is truly worth the boasting, and having my way I do for a while just as I please. Lovely it is, and yet it is not my own country, so the promise of return hurries my reins for me. A man of spirit holds it precious to follow his will; why hold back the going or the staying?