Up to your crown, O willow, dressed in the green of jades,
Myriads of twigs so verdant, droop like your silken braids.
Who knows who the tailor is, who's cut your leaves so fine? It's
The vernal winds past February, sharp as the scissors' blades.
A fine poem filled with rhetorical richness, classic poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
LOVE THIS POEM! ! ! !