Willow

This isn't a sheer fantasy    
a green harp on a willow tree    
I heard soft breeze fiddles its branch string    
playing songs as a musician in spring    
     
Then I know that's it      
new season has arrived      
Spring has started his showbiz    
he tailored her a newly-made dress    
      
Silenced, burgeoning is happening    
February breeze as sharp as scissors    
cut out those svelte branches      
and delicate lovely leaves    
     
By stream trickling    
her dangling twigs down looking      
as beautiful as Narcissus’ affection    
she falls in love with her own reflection    
     
Never know when it started    
I have already had a crush on her      
Since loving her shadow    
I wish I were the mirror in the water    
     
When the east monsoon brews    
February breeze strews      
I will sit quietly waiting for her visit    
and I will fall in love with her coquette