The Flower Market Chinese
poem
In the Royal City
spring is almost over; Tinkle, tinkle ?the coaches and horsemen
pass. We tell each other this is a peony season? And follow with the
crowd that goes the flower market. cheap and dear ? on uniform
price; The cost of the plant depends on the number of blossoms. The
flaming reds, a hundred on one stalk; The humble white with only
five flowers. Above is spread an awning to protect them; Around is
woven a wattle ?fence to screen them. If you sprinkle water and
cover the roots with mud, When they are transplanted, they will not
lose their beauty. Each household thoughtlessly follows the
custom, Man by man, no one realizing; Three happened to be an old
farm laborer who came by chance that way. He bowed his herd
and sighed a deep sigh; But this sigh nobody understood. He was
thinking, a cluster of deep red flower would pay the taxes of ten
poor houses.
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