“Spring lands on secluded valley of gurgling water,
bright plum blossoms in grass and bramble.
A night of east wind, the rock cracked,
crossing the treacherous mountain in falling snow.”
“Green branches sculpted with jade
and pistils with gold,
fairy flesh fearless of bitter cold.”
Red Plum Blossoms
Fear of sorrow, crave for sleep, it alone blooms late.
Tardy for concerns of icy look, not fitting for the season.
Feigning in pastel pink of peach and apricot,
yet lean, arrogant air of frosty snow remains.
Resilient nature to cold would not yield to spring air,
Blushing from wine in jade flesh for no cause.
The poet elder does not get plum’s character,
can only tell plum from peach with leaves and branches.
“Cold resilient plum blossoms appear to avoid spring,
they don’t understand Creator’s impartial love.”