However, the line old, spiritualised into odour,
(The odour soared into an everlasting ghost from life and death),
As a gossamer, the handiwork of a dream,
’Tis left free as it flaps:
The lady of Utamaro’s art is the beauty of zephyr flow.
I say again, the line with the breath of love,
Enwrapping my heart to be a happy prey:
Sensuous? To some so she may appear,
But her sensuousness divinised into the word of love.”
THE LADY OF UTAMARO’S ART