XX. 8. Going down Chung-nan Mountain and spending the Night drinking with the Hermit Tou-ssŭ
At dusk we left the blue mountain-head;
The mountain-moon followed our homeward steps.
We looked round: the path by which we had come
Was a dark cleft across the shoulder of the hill.
Hand in hand we reached the walls of the farm;
A young boy opened the wicker-gate.
Through green bamboos a deep road ran
Where dark creepers brushed our coats as we passed.
We were glad at last to come to a place of rest,
With wine enough to drink together to our fill,
Long I sang to the tune of the Pine-tree Wind;
When the song was over, the River-stars[46] were few.
I was drunk and you happy at my side;
Till mingled joy drove the World from our hearts.