Arthur Waley's public domain translation of Li Bai's poem "Drinking Alone by Moonlight" beautifully captures the essence of the original. Here's his version:
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Drinking Alone by
Moonlight
A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
I drink alone, for no friend is near.
Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,
For he, with my shadow, will make three men.
The moon, alas! is no drinker of wine;
Listless, my shadow creeps about at my side.
Yet with the moon as friend and the shadow as slave
I must make merry before the Spring is spent.
To the songs I sing the moon flickers her beams,
In the dance I weave my shadow tangles and breaks.
While we were sober, three shared the fun;
Now we are drunk, each goes their own way.
May we long share our odd, inanimate feast,
And meet at last on the Cloudy River of the sky.
Waley's translation highlights the sense of solitude and companionship that Li Bai evokes through the imagery of the moon and his shadow. It's a lovely reflection on fleeting moments of joy, nature, and a touch of melancholy.
The poem speaks to me as a vivid interplay of solitude and reflection, capturing the tension between isolation and fleeting connection. The poet finds himself alone in nature, under the flowering trees with a cup of wine, a scene that feels serene yet underpinned by a deeper loneliness. The absence of human companionship mirrors something I relate to: the times when physical isolation also signals an emotional or spiritual distance. Li Bai’s response to this is not despair, though, but a creative attempt to invite companions—the moon and his shadow—into his solitude.
There’s a whimsical element in turning to these inanimate forces as his companions, but it resonates because it’s something we often do. When the people we long to connect with are absent, we find solace in nature, the sky, or even in our own reflections, like the shadow at his side. Yet, despite the poet’s imaginative effort, neither the moon nor the shadow truly fills the void. The moon remains distant, reflecting the beauty of something unattainable, while the shadow—so closely tied to the poet—remains passive, merely mimicking his movements. It’s a reminder that no matter how much we try to create connection, some things are beyond our reach, and others are reflections of our own inner state.
The poem’s reflection on the fleeting nature of joy speaks to me on a deeper level. Li Bai urges himself to make merry before spring passes, hinting at how brief and precious moments of happiness are. His dance and song, shared with these strange companions, are temporary, much like our own brief experiences of connection in life. There’s a poignancy here—the idea that even in the midst of joy, we’re aware it will soon end. When he notes that each goes their own way once drunk, it brings to mind how we can share moments with others or even our own imagined companions, yet in the end, we are left alone with our thoughts, facing the reality of life’s impermanence.
But there’s also a sense of hope in his words, as he looks toward a reunion on the “Cloudy River of the sky.” To me, this is a yearning for something beyond the immediate—a cosmic connection, perhaps in the afterlife or in a spiritual sense, where all those fleeting companions might be joined once again. C.S. Lewis pointed out that these moments of Joy remind us that we are destined for a better world and it's God's way of giving us a glimpse of what could be. This evokes the idea of seeking meaning beyond the present moment, looking to the heavens or to faith for that ultimate union.
Li Bai’s poem feels like an honest acknowledgment of how we engage with isolation, not as something to be feared but as something to be explored. It speaks to the moments when we sit with our thoughts and find ourselves alone in the beauty of nature, realizing both the limitations of that solitude and the hope for a greater connection beyond. In that way, the poem captures something deeply human—the desire to transcend the boundaries of loneliness and fleeting joy, even as we know that some part of the journey must always be walked alone.