In a certain region of China,
in the southwest, not far from the mountains of Yunnan,
a kind of apple is to be found
with such an exquisite flavor
that in ancient times the emperors would spend
their gold to buy them, and offer them
at feasts and banquets in the great palace.
But they didn’t actually taste like apples.
I read that this was because of a beetle
which is only found on the trees of that region
and which lays its eggs for the time of their growing
in the heart of the apples. They do not stay
for long, but a marvelous fragrance
spreads through each fruit. After the worm
has spread its wings and fled
no trace remains of its sojourn
except an amber glow in the flesh
of the apple and a wonderful aroma
that all the scholars and gardeners
of the court were unable to explain.
That is what I do with this language.