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?
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