When we met the first time at Ch’ang-an
He called me the “Lost Immortal”.
Then he loved the Way of Forgetting.
Now under the pine-trees he is dust.
His golden keepsake bought us wine.
Remembering, the tears run down my cheeks.
Li Po
When we met the first time at Ch’ang-an
He called me the “Lost Immortal”.
Then he loved the Way of Forgetting.
Now under the pine-trees he is dust.
His golden keepsake bought us wine.
Remembering, the tears run down my cheeks.
Li Po
