In the attitude, and with the manner, of the woman of old,
Full of grief, she stands in the glorious morning light.
The dew is like the tears of to-day;
The mosses like the garments of years ago.
Her resentment is that of the Woman of the Hsiang River;
Her silence that of the concubine of the King of Ch’u.
Still and solitary in the sweet-scented mist,
As if waiting for her husband’s return. ~ Li Tai-po*
Early morning mist submitted in response to Cee’s CBWC challenge: weather
*Cited (Fir-Flower Tablets Poems Translated from the Chinese, Various Author Project Gutenberg)