Classic Poem

I'm sixty, this autumn.
White hair on my temples, but I am not worried.
I dress in red and green, all fine silk;
When I walk, my body moves like a bending willow.
I indulge in wine,
And seek out a playmate in Laamkung.
Tipsy, I turn to Seung Ngo and examine her fine details.
The clouds and rain atop Wu Mountain are the wonders of making love.