Leafy voices, softly uttering
Whispers, which sound mysteriously—
Like wings of angels, gently fluttering.
“If I had not Yang Kuei-fei,
What were all my empire worth?
With her, sitting thus by me,—
This is paradise on earth.”
Streaks of light through foliage glancing—
Mixing, blending, interlacing—
Now retreating—now advancing—