A Solitary Wildgoose

Line after line has flown back over the border.
Where are you headed all by yourself?
In the evening rain you call to them—
And slowly you alight on an icy pond.
The low wet clouds move faster than you
Along the wall toward the cold moon.
… If they caught you in a net or with a shot,
Would it be worse than flying alone?
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Ts'uei T'u
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