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
Posted by Woodlief on October 19, 2006 at 12:21 PM
