With crushed jade and kneaded fragrance, her frame is wrought;
A clearing sun dyes her skin crimson, by the breeze caught.
Where in the mortal world does such a flower appear?
A style of grace and charm, unknown for many a year.
In the moonlit eastern corner, three thousand fairies dwell,
Nightly they mend the jade towers by the Yingzhou's swell.
A cassia seed, by chance, was shaken and fell here,
Nurtured by rain and dew, it blooms in beauty clear.
The Gardener moved the root from verdant, lush terrain,
To the Jade Hall on emerald peak, with care, was ta'en.
Once her peerless beauty crowned all flowers in sight,
The Emperor's ink graced round fans, a royal delight.
In what year did she drift to the southern river's shore?
A single plant worth more than gold, prized evermore.
Though branches grafted, leaves have paled in hue and tone,
Even with such blooms, their matchless scent is now unknown.
I adore the Western Hills, a land fair and serene,
Where tall woods stand in whispers, by clear breezes seen.
No need to speak of apricot blooms drunk in slanting light,
Nor of spring crabapples in their slumber, fair and bright.
This is the time when autumn's metal gleams on high,
The cosmos vast and clear, all dusty mists pass by.
Crimson snow and azure mist in turn adorn the scene,
Rich fragrances and lingering scents in haze convene.
The Vulture Peak's gold blooms are now not worth a count,
Like a monk's tattered robe or a maiden's simple gown.
Behold the fragrant maids in rosy clouds arrayed,
Reverently serving the Emperor in jade halls staid.
Holding a golden mirror, blowing ripples bright,
A myriad acres of cold light cleanse the heart's plight.
I beg you, rein the red phoenix, make it stay,
Lest the fragrant soul by night should fly away.