Spirit Jade

Drunk, I recline in a beauty's lap; awake, I watch the Moon-Slashing Blade.

One man: The swallows cross the empty beams, a solitary shadow grows thin. Why does a youth's hair turn white, and who is he grieving for?

One blade: Fallen blossoms catch the moon, frail willows sway in the breeze!

One wine: Even the emperor cannot summon me when I am busy. I am an immortal of dance, music, and wine.

One zither: The moon sets beyond the parasol tree; phoenixes sing in the colorful clouds above.