Lonely child, grown to a woman,
You are still not old enough
To have lost your quiet dreams.
Where will the deep currents
Bear the boat of your soul?
The gulls all cry their farewell.
You wear your loveliness
Like a phoenix robe
Worthy of the imperial court.
May your beauty endure in this humble poem
Although the sly crone of age
Must steal one day, late or soon,
Both your beauty and your dreams.
- Anonymous
