Sinking again, I suddenly remembered home. Looking up, I found it was moonlight.
I drink alone. No one accompanied me, from a pot of wine to the flowers.
Bring me my shadow, make the three of us, until, holding up my cup, I asked the moon.
My shadow followed me blankly; Alas, the moon is not drinkable.
It brought me happiness at the end of spring, but I had these friends for a while.
I danced. After I sang, my shadow fell. The moon encouraged me.
Then I got drunk and we lost each other when you woke up.
I am staring at the long road of the Milky Way. Will goodwill be safe forever?