Dancing

Wide sleeves sway.
Scents,
Sweet scents
Incessantly coming.


It is red lilies,
Lotus lilies,
Floating up,
And up,
Out of autumn mist.


Thin clouds
Puffed, 
Fluttered,
Blown on a rippling wind
Through a mountain pass.


Young willow shoots
Touching, 
Brushing,
The water
Of the garden pool.
-Yang Kuei-Fei
Translated by Florence Ayscough and Amy Lowell