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