Peach Grove in March
by Bing Hua
Tr. by Liu Mei

A cool fine rain drifts through the air
Dampening a corner of dust laid bare
A vernal breeze floats like a veil
To soften the March sun pale

Within days the peach trees will rise
In flamboyant red before our eyes
One hidden fragrance drifts apart
Still seeking a tree to take part

Wind and rain speak low
Not a word of the peach grove they show
When April’s wind returns again
Petals will scatter across the plain

Rain turns to tears in the wind’s deep zone
Who will gather the petals blown
Piece by piece it reveals
What the roaming wind steals



 

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