Inviting Him to Drink in the Rain, and Using the Previous Rhymes Again to Give Him This雨中邀飮。又用前韻贈之。
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 · 126 Chinese characters · reading time 1.3 min
Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) Former Collection, Book 16 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.
Baduk is truly a joy only when one meets a stubborn opponent,
and I would pluck up Zhao's banners and plant my own red flag.
Because you have shrunk in fear and long not come,
I have vainly forsaken the lamp-bright evenings at the bamboo window.
Dust rises on cup and goblet, for no guest comes,
and at my mugwort gate I idly watch only the spider weaving its web.
The red peach not yet open has rather clamped its lips shut,
and the crimson apricot about to open is without color again.
A shower flies through the sky and silver bamboo hangs down,
and only my idly chanting lips remain, their sound a little vehement.
How could I bear to throw away a day of green spring in vain?
With the Banished Immortal's cup one might tip three hundred cups.
Not to call on me at such a time is truly to lack goodness,
and at the wine-press I idly watch only the pearl-drops.
Though you pretend, sparing your body, that you do not drink,
I hear there is a guest next door who goes seeking wine.
Will you take each other's hands and come, or will you not?
Like a swan I have craned my neck so long that I can scarcely tilt it even a moment.