Choosing No One

 by Brett Rutherford

     after the Chinese of Li Yü, “Yü Lou Ch’un”

The ladies have spent all evening preparing.

Just after the bath, the flesh

of consorts and concubines is white

as snow, with here and there

the blush of peach or cherry.

They all line up in the Spring Palace.

It is all for my benefit.

The phoenix flutes trill plaintively,

to make them long for me,

and me, for them,

water and cloud apart

yet yearning to touch.

As they retire, to await

decision and summoning,

the Rainbow-Dress song

goes the rounds, and fades

as the musicians stop

before each chamber.

Which one has overdone it

and fills the air with the scent

of her alluring powder?

Which one thinks

she has found a love-charm?

The aroma of their desire,

compounded by chemists

with thousand-year perfumes,

is enough to make me dizzy.

In my dark pavilion, I tap

the balustrade. Sometimes I just

pick a number; there are so many!

But then I choose: I tell

the servants to light no lanterns,

to let the red candles flutter out.

The wind is up. My horse

is in high spirits. Tonight

I will ride, and we

shall tread the moonbeams!