I have been trying to penetrate the poetry of Ezra Pound and the delicate imagery of this poem reminds me of his writing.
Verse of the Wu Garden by Wen T’ing-yun
Brocade pheasants fly in pairs, the plums bear fruit.
Green spreading out to the distant in vast spring rises within the window frame.
Water of Wu river, a light ink painting, stretches to the end of the sky,
While a three-foot-wide screen divides a thousand miles.
There are red doors opening to the tiny garden,
Catkins and dancing butterflies hover around above.
Should the ornamented window and decorated railings long be here as they may.
Year after year, the spring light returns so.