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 his way.
May we long share our odd, inanimate feast,  
And meet at last on the Cloudy River of the sky.   
- Drinking Alone Under the Moon by Li Bai, translated by Arthur Waley

Label and web illustrations by Émile-Antoine Bayard.