Translators render gui hua as osmanthus, laurel, or cassia; while modern osmanthus blooms in autumn, the poem’s mountain is called spring. Rather than an error, many read this as layered seasonality or as a broader laurel family reference attested in Tang usage. Some versions simply say “flowers fall” to preserve the mood. In any case, the sensory core remains: a flower famed for fragrance is heard, not smelled—folding scent into sound, and season into timeless quiet. [...]
