The Morning Shower

The young lady shows like a thing of light

In the shadowy deeps of a fair window

Grown round with flowers.

She is naked and leans forward, and her flesh like frost

Gathers the light beyond the stone brim.

Only the hair made ready for the day

Suggests the charm of modern clothing.

Her blond eyebrows are the shape of very young moons.

The shower’s bright water overflows

In a pure rain.

She lifts one arm into an urgent line,

Cooling her rose fingers

On the grey metal of the spray.

If I could choose my service, I would be the shower

Dashing over her in the sunlight.

From the Chinese of J.S. Ling (1901).