She Is Like

She is like the perfume of violets

Blown against a green silk curtain.

She is like spring water

Running over moss-covered rocks

Under the stretched needles of pines.

She is like apple-blossoms.

Her skin is as soft and cool

As a water-lily petal an hour after sunset.

She is like what is finer,

More delicate than any of these things-

She is like herself.