Plum Blossoms

This is my translation for a really old Chinese poem called ?? which literally means plum blossoms. Hope I captured the essence of this beautiful poem Young plum blossoms slumber with snowflakes, A lonely sight that painters despair to capture in its glory, Scents delicate graceful, The one of a kind, In the wintry garden. Such an aura of elegance was that of the plum blossoms. They had forgotten, or had- Never known raw bleakness of winter Somewhere, sounded a mournful tune from a faraway flute, I leaned in, listening. Ah, Gentle Northern wind, If only you had known the virtues of the plum blossoms- How easily they break and wither, And yet how fiercely they bloom day after day Would you have the heart to ravage them still?