Mid-autumn of the Bing Chen year,
having been drinking happily over night, I'm drunk,
so I write this poem for memorising my brother, Zi You.
Bright moon, when did you appear? Lifting my wine, I question the dark night sky.
Tonight in the palaces and halls of heaven what year is it, I wonder?
I would like to ride the wind, make my home there.
Only I hide in a jade room of a beautiful mansion.
As I could not bear the cold of high altitudes.
So I rise and dance and play in your pure beams, this human world - how can it compare with yours?
Circling red chambers, low in the curtained door, you shine on the sleepless.
Surely you bear us no ill will -why then must you be so round at times when we humans are parted!
People have their griefs and joys, their togetherness and separation.
The moon has its dark and clear times, its waxings and wanings.
Situations are never ideal since long ago.
I only hope we two may have long long lives.
So that we may share the moon's beauty even though we are a three hundred miles apart.