Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine, No friends at hand, so I poured alone; I raised my cup to invite the moon, Turned to my shadow, and we became three. Now the moon had never learned about drinking, And my shadow had merely followed my form, But I quickly made friends with the moon and my shadow; To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring. Whenever I sang, the moon swayed with me; Whenever I danced, my shadow went wild. Drinking, we shared our enjoyment together; Drunk, then each went off on his own. But forever agreed on dispassionate revels, We promised to meet in the far Milky Way.
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That's the difference between me and a poet. Getting drunk outside by myself was just that. Now LI Po wrote a nice poem about it, but I woke with a bad headache.
One legend has it that Li Po drowned while jumping drunkenly from a boat to chase the moon's reflection in a river. This must be the poem that inspired such a legend - whether true or not. In any case, he seems to have enjoyed his 'pot of wine' and the moonlight, and he produced quite a poem as a result of it - rather than sleeping with the fishes.