Dancers of Delphi

There wandering, a lad with his lute and poems.
There, under the moonlit laurel tree,
the dancers of Delphi sprinkled wine all over the ground
and the moon fell into a trance.
Those fond of asking riddles kept swinging their hair-trailing heads,
thinking of nothing but melancholy and dark thick eyebrows.
How did he know,
how would he suspect those whirling myrtles and ivies weren’t their bodies?
How would he? Such exquisite and life-like description.
Smiles, sculptural reliefs, all the mysterious occurrences.
There, the dancers of Delphi sprinkled wine all over the ground.
There, a lad with his lute and poems.

Chen Li is representing Chinese Taipei at Poetry Parnassus