Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday, 3 Oct 2024, 19:15
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:
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.
Li Bai and the Depth of Human Isolation
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:
Image by https://unsplash.com/@ome3
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.