Du Fu and the glory of Chinese poetry

I am a big fan of Chinese poetry. It is slightly more accessible than the Japanese variety, including haiku and tends to be a real feast of the senses. The following is from the Chinese master Du Fu (712-770.)

Each piece of flying blossom leaves spring the less,

I grieve as myriad points float in the wind.

I watch the last ones pass before my eyes,

And cannot have enough wine pass my lips.

Kingfishers nest by the little hall on the river,

A unicorn lies at the tomb near the enclosure.

One must go gladly at nature’s gentle call,

For what use is the trap of empty titles?

Du Fu