Oh Splendor, Splendor, its pheasant plumes; Black hair like clouds, no need for false locks; Oh Brilliance, Br…
Oh Splendor, Splendor, its pheasant plumes;
Black hair like clouds, no need for false locks;
Oh Brilliance, Brilliance, its finest dress;
Over crepe undershirts, close-fitting and neat.
The Twin Dancing Puppets were originally a pair of failed creations by an unnamed Mohist artisan, sunk to the lakebed.
Yet once, they were the heart's blood of a brilliantly talented craftsman. If fate allows them to dance again, may those who come after glimpse a spark of enlightenment upon these weathered forms.