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By Li Bai (701 - 762 AD), translation by Sun Dayu.
By the town bulwark, beneath the sandy clouds,
The crows are settling down for the night,
Returning to nests and croaking one and all,
On branches of trees they come to alight.
To weave by hand her taffeta piece,
The Qin River young dance plieth her loom
While speaking alone by herself at the window screen
Of smoky blue, of her drear doom.
She pauses her shuttle to pine on her far-off lord;
All alone in her room, rain tears in accord.
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