When did the bright moon first appear? I raise my wine and ask the blue sky. I do not know in the palace of heaven what year this night may be. I wish to ride the wind and return, yet fear that the jade towers and jeweled halls are too high and cold. Dancing, I play with my clear shadow; how could it compare with the human world? The moon turns past the red pavilion, lowers by the carved window, and shines on the sleepless. It should not hold regret; why is it always round when people part? People have joy and sorrow, parting and reunion; the moon has brightness and dimness, fullness and waning. Since ancient times this has never been perfect. May we all live long, sharing the beauty of the moon across a thousand miles.
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