Classic Poem

Fine rain,
Spring mud
Slippery as bean curds.
In a rose-red flash, she approaches—
Beautiful, sparkling like wine;
Tottering as though overcome with wine,
Her little feet slip on the sliding path;
Who will support her?
Clearly it is her picture
We see here,
In a rose-red silken dress,
Her hair plaited like the folds
Of a hundred clouds.
It is Manshu.
——C H'NDASH H UNG-SHOU , 19th Century