Tz'U No. 3

To the tune "Red Lips"

Tired of swinging
I rise with a slender hand
put right
my hair
the dew thick
on frail blossoms
sweat seeping through
my thin robe
and seeing
my friend come
stockings torn
gold hairpins askew
I walk over
lean against the door
turn my head
grasp the dark green plums
and smell them.

by Li Ch'ing Chao

Other poems of LI CH'ING CHAO (30)

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