CROWS CALLING AT NIGHTYellow clouds beside the walls; crows roosting near.Flying back, they caw, caw; calling in the boughs.In the loom she weaves brocade, the Qin river girl.Made of emerald yarn like mist, the window hides her words.She stops the shuttle, sorrowful, and thinks of the distant man.She stays alone in the lonely room, her tears just like the rain.
-Li Bai
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