梅雨潭闪闪的绿色招引着我们;我们开始追捉她那离合的神光了。揪着草，攀着乱石，小心探身下去，又鞠躬过了一个石穹门，便到了汪汪一碧的潭边了。瀑布在襟袖之间;但我的心中已没有瀑布了。我的心随潭水的绿而摇荡。那醉人的绿呀，仿佛一张极大极大的荷叶铺着，满是奇异的绿呀。我想张开两臂抱住她;但这是怎样一个妄想呀。站在水边，望到那面，居然觉着有些远呢!这平铺着，厚积着的绿，着实可爱。她松松的皱缬着，像少 妇拖着的裙幅;她轻轻的摆弄着，像跳动的初恋的处 女的心;她滑滑的明亮着，像涂了“明油”一般，有鸡蛋清那样软，那样嫩，令人想着所曾触过的最嫩的皮肤;她又不杂些儿尘滓，宛然一块温润的碧玉，只清清的一色，但你却看不透她!我曾见过北京什刹海指地的绿杨，脱不了鹅黄的底子，似乎太淡了。我又曾见过杭州虎跑寺旁高峻而深密的“绿壁”，丛叠着无穷的碧草与绿叶的，那又似乎太浓了。其余呢，西湖的波太明了，秦淮河的又太暗了。可爱的，我将什么来比拟你呢?我怎么比拟得出呢?大约潭是很深的、故能蕴蓄着这样奇异的绿;仿佛蔚蓝的天融了一块在里面似的，这才这般的鲜润呀。那醉人的绿呀!我若能裁你以为带，我将赠给那轻盈的舞女;她必能临风飘举了。我若能挹你以为眼，我将赠给那善歌的盲妹;她必明眸善睐了。我舍不得你;我怎舍得你呢?我用手拍着你，抚摩着你，如同一个十二三岁的小姑娘。我又掬你入口，便是吻着她了。我送你一个名字，我从此叫你“女儿绿”，好么?
The second time I visited the Xianyan Mountain, I was staggered by the green of Plum Rain Pool.
Plum Rain Pool is at the foot of a waterfall, the lowest of the three waterfalls on Xianyan. If you come near to the mountain, you hear the gurgle and plash, and looking up see a belt of sparkling white water edged by two moist black borders. First, we reached Plum Rain Pavilion. This stands opposite the waterfall, and seated beside it you need not raise your head to see the whole cascade. At the foot of the pavilion is the deep Plum Rain Pool. The pavilion stands on a projecting rock with nothing above or below it, like an eagle poise in the sky with outstretched wings. Mountains on three sides form a semi-circle round it, making you feel as if at the bottom of a well. it was a hazy autumn day when we went there. Fleecy clouds floated overhead, and rich green oozed from the moisture on the face of the rock and on the clumps of grass. The waterfall seemed unusually clamorous too. It plunged down like a smooth length of whole material; then it was irrevocably torn into silken tatters large and small. And as it charged past the sharp-edged rock, foam like chips of jade spattered wildly. This spatter of brilliant, scintillating foam looked from a distance like a shower of minute white plum petals fluttering slowly down. They say this is the origin of the name Plum Rain Pool. But I think it would be more accurate to compare the foam to willow seeds. For when a breeze springs up and the specks scatter with the wind, they look even more like willow down. Suddenly a few drops sprayed against our warm breasts, piercing our clothes at once and disappearing forever.
The flashing green of Plum Rain Pool was beckoning to us, and we set out to seize its elusive splendor. Clutching the grass and grasping jagged rocks, we cautiously made our way down, till dipping our heads to pass through a low stone gate, we came to the edge of the broad, deep, emerald pool. The waterfall was so close I could have touched it, but already I was oblivious to it. My heart was dancing with the green of the pool. That intoxicating hue was spread out like a huge lotus leaf, the whole of it a quite fantastic green. I wanted to throw out my arms and embrace it – but this was a wild impulse. When I stood at the water’s edge and looked over the pool, it still seemed a fair expanse. This smooth-spread, compact green is utterly charming. It undulates and ripples like the folds of a young wife’s skirt; it palpitates like a maiden’s heart when she first falls in love; it glimmers as if coated with oil, soft and light as the white of an egg, reminding you of the silkiest skin you ever touched. It is unmixed, too, with any dust or dregs, remaining one whole sheet of enchanting turquoise, a single, translucent colour – yet one you cannot see through! I have noticed how the green willows sweeping the ground at Shichahai Park in Beijing seem too pale and gosling-yellow, and how the high, dense “green wall” near Hupao Temple at Hangzhou seems too solid with its endless green grass and foliage. For the rest, the waves of the West Lake are too bright, while those of the Qinhuai River are too dark. Then what can I compare you to, my darling? What comparison can there be? This pool must be very deep to produce this remarkable green, as if a fragment of the deep blue sky had melted here to make this exquisite colour. You intoxicating green! If I could make a girdle out of you, I would give it to that graceful dancing girl so that she could whirl and flutter with the wind. If I could a make a pair of eyes out of you, I would give them to that blind girl who loves singing, so that she could have bright eyes and perfect eyesight. I cannot bear to leave you – how can I leave you? I stroke and caress you as if you were a girl of twelve or thirteen. I carry you to my lips, as if I were kissing her. Would you like me to give you a name? What about Girl Green?
The second time I visited Xianyan, I was staggered by the green of Plum Rain Pool.
February 8, 1924