أغنية النساء الجميلات

أغنية النساء الجميلات

The Beautiful Women

Du Fu

On the third day of the third month, the weather is fresh,

By the waters of Chang'an, many beautiful women gather.

Rich in bearing, far in spirit, gentle and true,

Their skin is fine and smooth, their flesh and bone well-matched.

Their embroidered silk robes shine upon the late spring,

With gold-threaded peacocks and silver unicorns.

What do they wear upon their heads?

Kingfisher-feather leaf-tips drooping over their temples.

What is seen behind them?

Pearl-weighted sashes fitting their forms perfectly.

Among them are those of cloud-canopied, pepper-scented kin,

Enfeoffed with the great states of Guo and Qin.

Purple camel humps emerge from green jade cauldrons,

Crystal plates bear rows of white-scaled fish.

Ivory chopsticks, sated with delicacies, long remain unused,

Imperial knives slice and cut in vain, their work in vain.

Eunuchs on swift steeds stir not a speck of dust,

The imperial kitchen ceaselessly sends the eight rare delicacies.

Flutes and drums, mournful and moving, stir ghosts and spirits;

Guests and attendants throng, filling the seats of power.

Then come the saddle horses, prancing with measured grace,

Dismounting before the hall, stepping onto brocade mats.

Willow flurries fall like snow, blanketing white duckweed;

Blue birds fly off, carrying red kerchiefs in their beaks.

Their power is scorching, their might beyond all compare—

Beware, approach not too close, lest the Grand Minister frown!