The garden once burst into a riot of colors, now all surrendered to broken wells and crumbling walls. What can one do when the day is fair and the scenery lovely? Whose courtyard holds such delightful sights and pleasures?
Morning clouds rise, evening clouds roll; emerald pavilions glow beneath rosy skies. A drizzle falls, a breeze stirs, and painted boats drift across misty waters. Behind the embroidered screen, she looks upon this fleeting springtime far too lightly.
