Li Qingzhao is justly celebrated for her place in Chinese literary history. She was a poet with a wry, unsentimental style and a rich sense of melody. Her ci – lyrics that were originally set to music – are glorious in their depth and genius, spare and arresting on the line. They evoke with rare immediacy the haunting beauty of country life during the Song dynasty; the unseen, restive labour of the poet; and Li Qingzhao’s bracing take on what it means to create art as a woman in the shadow of exile, war, imprisonment, and an unwelcoming literary establishment. In Wendy Chen’s splendid new translation, each poem is as sharp and fresh as the edge of a new spring leaf. These richly textured bolts of melody are masterpieces of verse, as resonant and bracing today as they were in the eleventh century; and they underscore Li Qingzhao's status as a necessary and iconic literary figure.