Jung Kwang's picture of a little girl

No contour to her face,
no neck, no arms,

below the flowing locks that hang
like a rotting thatch roof
covered with trailing gourd creepers,
a silhouette in inky lines
like two old broken posts,

while beneath eyes and eye-brows that look
like bits of straw fallen to the ground
and arranged evenly by chance,
just like an unhealed wound in form,
a nose,

and to crown it all a red dot:
cherry lips too are
on the way out.

This rough-faced little girl
has the expression of a crawling baby
that is gazing up towards its mother

and as it melts into the sweet smile of a love
that cannot be perceived with just the five senses,
it shines with a light of higher purity
than the light of the morning sun.

She is adopting an air
that would put even Venus to shame.