This poem is inspired by ancient Chinese lyric poetry, which I immensely admire.
Lady Li’s pure, gentle name means the white plum flower; her slight, slender, moving form holds a quiet power. When I watch her lost in thoughts at the crimson dawning, she sits resting on a bench—like a swan in longing. As she’s moving, her soft robe silently is rustling; bracelets on her slender wrists from afar are sparkling. All splendid jewels made of jade glisten in the moonlight; I plead heaven to send help: stay for a while, mute night! We talk about the faint moon, about silent gladness; a sweet child is in Li’s smile, and a touch of sadness. Syllables she slowly says, awaken my dreaming; her amazing, pleasant voice is a balm, a gleaming.
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