Too fragile to endure the heat of a summer day,
Yet pretty enough to cheer the cool morning—
Head stooped, a golden cup raised high,
Reflecting the splendor of the sun’s first light.
A heart of sandalwood color forms its own halo;
Its leaves of kingfisher sheen grow dense and prickly.
Of all who sketched from still life since ancient times,
Who could have excelled the art of Chao Ch’ang?
Fresh morning makeup, or drunken stupor at noon:
Its true likeness holds the yin and the yang.
Just look within this flower and its stem,
There you’ll find the fragrance of wind and dew.

translated by Irving Y. Lo