Her forehead is delicate, her brows like moth's wings; her smile is enchanting.
Her cloudlike hair is damp with fragrant mist; her jade arms are chilled by the clear moonlight.
In the hot spring, her smooth skin is washed clean.
Her eyes are like autumn waters, her fingers like spring onions.
Her flushed cheeks pale as the wine fades; when she speaks of parting, her emerald brows droop.
Her form is graceful as a swimming dragon, radiant as autumn chrysanthemums and flourishing spring pines. Light clouds veil the sun; she drifts like snow stirred by a passing breeze.
Seen from afar, she shines like the sun rising through rosy clouds; viewed up close, she glows like a lotus emerging from rippling waters.
A broken stem is still lovely to wear; brought indoors, it fills the room with fragrance.
It blooms along the road, bearing frost, and seems to open in the snow despite the cold.
Its beauty is peerless, but for whom does its fragrance spread?
Its nature defies the frosty cold; its fragrance holds the splendor of autumn dew.
It is a wonder that it blooms in water, with a body of jade and bones of fragrant wood.
They say its secluded fragrance carries for ten miles, and its fame reaches a thousand villages.
Only the camellia endures for so long, putting out several red blossoms among the green leaves.
Flowers bloom and fall without cease, unconcerned with spring's arrival or departure!
Could it be the goddess of the Luo River? A thousand charms and myriad graces break through the rosy dawn.
The Turbulent Tang
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