Poetry: [Crow]
Night is silent, night crows rise; at night they rest, night crows are silent. \ Three thousand cold swords kill all the crows. \ At night I rest, accompanying you I rise, and for you I put on light clothes, then take my leave. \ Just morning and evening, yet it feels like three seasons. \ Snow flutters on the willow-lined shore; \ looking whose kite is afar. \ The wind lifts to the peak of the blue clouds; \ when will you return? \ Waiting until the red clouds fill the declining sun, intoxicating the horizon; \ once again lifting feathered clothes lightly to brush the eyebrows, \ dancing and singing a song for you, the Fairies on the Queqiao Bridge, \ getting drunk together before the wine cup. \ Tonight, drifting rain falls across Mount Wu; \ who cares for the broken red thread? \ Only regret that the night crow's voice gently buried the lingering love, \ buried half a lifetime of fate. \ At night I rest, a lone shadow silently leaning on the railing, sighing at the sharp evening wind, bidding farewell. \ Three seasons have passed, yet it feels like morning and evening. \ Rain murmurs in front of the swallow hall; \ flowers and leaves entangle beneath; a kite's string, \ seemingly broken yet not broken. \ In this life, you will not see; \ from afar I sigh that I am nothing but singing and dancing in taverns, \ while your ink-stained strings flow past the green robe. \ Worldly rumors, matters rarely complete, night after night with the moon and stars. \ Every night, night crows linger. \ You once said, wielding a long sword, to kill three thousand crows; \ spring flowers and autumn moons accompany me on every step. \ Rain sounds chaotic, jade flutes cold. \ Under the lamp, I flip through the scroll you gave me. \ Sailing to the other shore, hand in hand through the years, drifting farther and farther. \ I burn the zither and break the strings, wandering alone across thousands of mountains and rivers. \ Smiles no longer like the lonely chill of that time, in the warmth of a foreign night. \ Suddenly wind rises, crow cries gradually, whose tears are blown away? \ Night is silent, night crows rise; at night they rest, night crows are silent. \ Three thousand cold swords kill all the crows!
