Hibiscus trees are planted across the mortal sphere,
Yet Chengdu's fame for verse remains unmatched and clear.
Like mountain papaya blossoms, thousands burst in sight,
Or water crabapple flowers, clustered, burning bright.
At first I thought red beans vied to crown each bough,
Then sensed rouge, by fair hands, shaped into balls somehow.
In Western Shu, monks tend small roots with pious care,
While Southern Jing's official grounds spread branches fair.
High through the woods they pierce, with nothing to obscure,
Best viewed when leaning on a tower, calm and pure.
Ten acres of the garden blaze as if on fire,
Several pond surfaces mirror cinnabar's desire.
Like brocade robes, vast stretches join in seamless grace,
Or pearl-decked quilts, in shared light, find their meeting place.
The breeze sways slender waists, their makeup just complete,
Dew dries on bronze sparrows, tears no longer wet.
Dawn borrows distant crimson clouds for warming hue,
Autumn's faint soul intrudes, the tent feels chill anew.
For feasts, no need for curtains laboriously spread,
To gather fragrance, sandalwood's rich cost is shed.
Their deep glow tints young ramblers' raven-black hair,
And dyes enchantresses' white jade crowns with care.
Half the guest seats shift near the crimson-tasseled zone,
Envoys' carriages crowd, carved saddles warmly shown.
Layer on layer, blooms swirl with butterflies in flight,
Dense intertwined branches host kingfishers at night.
This poet feels ashamed, his carved pen far too slight,
What painter dares display his skill on frost-white silk bright?
I hoped to share a thousand drunken scenes with thee,
How could I bear to lightly bid all flowers flee?
The river road still shifts with rapids' swift descent,
Barbarian ships yet break through long waves, onward bent.
Scarlet snow drifts deep, accumulating past a foot,
Gathered clear sunset clouds disperse, then reunite in soot.
Time passes, only sages grasp this fleeting show,
Beauty unmatched was seen by enlightened minds ago.
Recorded as immortal blooms, they must be fine,
Their fruit, like winter plums, holds no acidic line.
For five or six years now, the pain of parting stays,
Spring nights frequent my dreams with stone terrace displays.