The wind keeps its appointments, the blossoms never falter, time delicately twirls around my fingers, and the years are imbued with the scent of plum blossoms.
The plum blossoms bloom, and my eyes are filled with joy, as happiness ascends to the treetops!
The plum blossoms extend their branches unintentionally, each petal untouched by the dust of the world.
I’ve passed through your blooming season, and you’ve gifted me with boundless joy.
The spring breeze carries hope, the future is promising, and after the plum blossoms bloom, there is nothing but romance.
Even if unnoticed, the plum blossoms bloom punctually.
Even if no one appreciates them, the fragrance of plum blossoms remains the same.
Spring isn’t the only season for blooming, so rest assured, you have your own blooming season.
I lie intoxicated beneath the plum blossoms, my clothes soaked in their intoxicating fragrance.
Plucking a branch of plum blossoms marks a wonderful moment, as intoxicating as the spring breeze across eight hundred miles.
As everything awakens in the spring, all good things are possible.
Our reunion was unexpected, and you are unscathed from our parting.
The most beautiful encounter is probably this: I happened to pass by when you were in full bloom.
Grant me a lifetime of joy, accompanied by plum blossoms.
Half of the spring color dyes my heart, and half of the poetic sentiment brings tranquility.
The night moon casts a curtain of serene dreams, and the spring breeze blows softly for ten miles.
Ten miles of spring breeze cannot compare to you, nor can three miles of peach blossoms compare to you.
Plum blossoms possess a natural beauty and fragrant charm, with various exquisite shapes, elegant postures, dazzling colors, and intoxicating scent.
Although plum blossoms lack the grandeur of peonies, the nobility of chrysanthemums, and the grace of daffodils, they possess an extraordinary and transcendent pride.
Plum blossoms must yield to the snow in whiteness, but the snow loses to the plum blossom’s fragrance.
I love the plum for its faint fragrance, its pure attire, and its sacred soul.
Plum blossoms are beautiful, resilient, and unassuming.
The color of plum blossoms is vibrant but not coquettish, the scent is tranquil and elegant, and the posture is ancient and graceful.
Plum blossoms resist the oppression of ice and snow, standing proudly on their branches, smiling at life.
In the severe cold, plum blossoms still show off their branches, standing in the snow, awaiting their moment of glory.
Plum blossoms grow on the edges of cliffs, fearing neither the severe cold nor the wind and rain.
“Plum Blossom”
Song · Wang Anshi
A few branches of plum blossom at the corner of the wall, bravely blooming alone in the cold.
Its distant scent tells us it’s not snow, carrying a hidden fragrance.
“Plum Blossom Quatrain”
Song · Lu You
I hear the plum blossoms crackle in the morning wind, the snow piles up in the four mountains.
Where can one transform into a billion, a tree of plum blossoms, a carefree man.
“Divination Song · Plum Blossom”
Modern · Mao Zedong
The wind and rain send spring back, and the flying snow welcomes spring.
There is a hundred-foot cliff of ice, yet the blossoms remain charming.
They don’t compete for spring, but only report its arrival.
When the mountain flowers bloom brilliantly, they laugh in the bushes.
“Remembering the Plum”
Tang · Li Shangyin
I settle at the edge of the world, looking forward to the brilliance of things.
The cold plum is most hateful, often appearing as last year’s blossom.
“White Plum”
Yuan · Wang Mian
Placed in a forest of ice and snow, different from peach and plum mixed with fragrant dust.
Suddenly, a night of clear fragrance released, spreading ten thousand miles of spring throughout the universe.
“Ink Plum”
Song · Ju Jian
Don’t regret that you can’t paint, you don’t need to seek difference, only similarity.
The jade face cannot compare to the color of the cold crow, hence it’s entrusted to the black dust to be different from the Han officials.
“Early Plum”
Tang · Qi Yi
All the trees are about to break from the freeze, the lone root warms and returns.
Deep in the snow in front of the village, a branch bloomed last night.
“Ink Plum”
Ming · Zhang Zhuo
On the edge of a secluded valley, near a riverside village, the sparse flowers once broke the guest’s soul.
I still resent the east wind for having no thoughts, blowing more smoke and rain to darken the dusk.