Yi Kyu Bo.
On the last day of the third moon the poet makes a fantasy upon the departure of the god of spring.
The falling petals of the Flower Pavilion
Fashion his perfumed bed.
There, through the last watch of the moon he rests.
Into his sleep a purple wineflower drips
The fragrance of her dew.
Laughing he wakes. Drunken with blossom breath
He wanders through the garden, seeking love.
Whom will he take to share his ecstasy?
The peach? Her wanton gifts have wearied him.
The mountain apricot? Too harsh her tone.
But the silk skirts of the peony shimmer like tinted moths.
Her scarlet petals tremble. She falters forth his name.
Even in the Western Garden[4] he would find no fairer flower.
Swiftly the last watch of the moon goes down
And flames of morning leap from hill to hill.
Retreating steps—At dawn an empty courtyard, Departing echoes of his cavalcade.
Peony petals fall in the Flower Pavilion.
There is a sound of tears.