The Butterfly In June Poem by Wang Qian

Any nymph playing in the wondering water
To chase after fun and sun
Through bags of forgotten laughter?

Once been put into the shrinking old
When swelling young,
Lips glowed
Tears shabby
Heart stone.

And want to breathe
A single air
Without wings,
Or tedious cares,
Madly
Venture alone.

Always too young to cherish,
Silver memories too little to nourish,
Some unstrung happy away flown,
While a thing of gloom-like grown.

Not calm not calm,
Each cell thronging the wild dumb,
Colours fighting with racing gayness
And seeds of soul run riot in the locking fragrance.
A pupa with strength pushing in jail
Will break all irons on body in June.

Slim breeze swimming over the window,
Blushing on the exiled door
As petty greens dancing tall,
Reaching for the warm floor,
Upon which more shines will come,
More rains will chant,
More dews and buds will hold each other,
More exquisiteness of season will be found.

In the arms of March,
Just I thought,
If I were the butterfly,
Presently unborn,
If I had the dreadful nerves,
Roughly unfound,
Promise me a brave heart in the coming June
At least
And
Let the glittering Grace be played out
With the ageless flute,
Gigglish clouds around,
Brighten the sky upon.