Dziewczyna z warkoczami w złotym świetle

As dusk passed over the horse's head wall,a beam of gilt light slanted into the patio of the old house. The tangled lotus patterns on the wood carving door panels were dipped in the warm light,and the shadows of the flowers were cast on the girl's plain silk skirt. She stepped barefoot on the green bricks that had been dented by the years,and where the tips of her feet had touched,fine dust danced in the light column., The ice-cracked flower window in the west wing was half-covered,leaking into a few willow leaves that had been crushed by the evening wind,and were falling on the rice paper she posted. The ink-dried word "forever" trembled slightly at the end,**** a crane neck startled by the sound of shaking outside the window. She put down the wolf's hair and looked at the newly studied pine smoke ink in the inkstone to reflect her shaking reflection. Suddenly,she remembered the ginkgo leaves she picked up at the bridge in the morning,and the rain from last night was still condensed in the veins., The old plum tree at the root of the east wall rustled,photocopying the hosta in her hair. A drop of ink fell from the tip of the pen,and a small moon swam on the cicada wing.,

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