Tony Woodlief | Author

P’u-Hua Fei Hua


A flower and not a flower; of mist yet not of mist;
At midnight she was there; she went as daylight shone.
She came and for a little while was like a dream of spring,
And then, as morning clouds that vanish traceless, she was gone.

Po Chui
Translated by Duncan Mackintosh
Rendered into verse by Alan Ayling

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