Frost
Where are the butterflies
flying to and fro?
The lovely nightingale
has not yet
begun to sing.
Before the arrival of spring
one snowy branch blossoms a little
sending forth its fragrance three li.
Silently its shadow moves
When whitened by the moon.
its most cherished moment comes.
Most people have eyes
for only bright reds and purples --
who can believe that
this jade lady
endures the frost?
By Cho Koran (1804-1879)