The enamel white moon made a ladle on the water;
Li Po, a tick full of wine with a romantic heart,
rowed his boat up the long handle towards the bowl.
It was a gentle night, the air was warm and all was still;
he, with the fondest memories of all his lovers, sat
awhile, allowing himself to be enthralled by this beauty.
He became ecstatic; alone with the universe, colossal
therefore, and filled with the dream of love, he fell
into the water with arms wide to embrace the moon.
It was sudden, chill and lightless;
deceived by his love, he fell past euphoria
into the dank cavern that is the final knowing,
while up above the moon continued to beguile
all the wine-drinkers with love in their hearts,
all those who would drink their dreams into reality.
