white jade by night

She paints her eyebrows behind curtains where Hiromasa cannot see her; she sits behind partitions of wood and gauze, and he can only hear her voice and imagine the beauty of her face, the gracefulness of her gestures.

By night he comes out to meet her and to play his flute for her. In the morning they will exchange poems.

The moon is just as distant, just as untouchable, and sometimes by night just as staggeringly close.

He builds a bridge between them with his flute, drawing the moon down from heaven. He draws back the curtain and beholds her.

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