Lovely as on the boughs of spring
Beneath the fallen suns of Ming,
There bloom the flowers of the plum
Where bloomless autumn shall not come
That came for all the years of Ming.

And here the flower-white herons peer
Unmoving on a waveless mere;
And ever, past the green bamboo,
The halcyon flies toward the blue
From waters where the herons peer.

Enchanted realm of porcelain
Whereon the sunken suns remain,
Wherein the perished blossoms bloom!
An ancient spring defers its doom
Within this land of porcelain.