The poet has brought ink in a stone pot
A brush, an inkstone, and two servants
To stand quietly while he kneels, watching
The water flow by. He slows his breathing
And makes space in his mind for the poem
With which he has an appointment. Alas for him!
His poem and many others were met on the road
By Li Po and lie tangled in sleep after a long night
Toasting each other and dancing with shadows.
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