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Lin Pu (967–1028) spent most of his life near Hangchou and steadfastly refused to become an official, preferring to live as a recluse just outside the city’s West Gate. During one stretch he didn’t enter the city for twenty years. He also never married and doted instead on his pet cranes and plum trees. In the fifth and sixth lines, migrating birds confuse the shimmering white petals with snow, and if butterflies could only survive the cold, they would surely mistake the plum’s blossoms for white-winged colleagues from a higher realm. Poets often tapped on a sounding board to keep time while singing poetry.

How Plum Flowers Embarrass a Garden

LIN PU

When everything has faded they alone shine forth

encroaching on the charms of smaller gardens

their scattered shadows fall lightly on clear water

their subtle scent pervades the moonlit dusk

snowbirds look again before they land

butterflies would faint if they but knew

thankfully I can flirt in whispered verse

I don’t need a sounding board or winecup