A River of autumn water, pale, cold mist

A river of autumn water, pale, cold mist;
reflections as if in sheer silk.
Before my eyes, sorrow of parting—
several V's of geese
write words against clear sky.

White duckweed, red smartweed form their patterns;
to the sound of Wu songs, oars are rowed.
A long cry of suffering
startles up the egrets from their sleep.
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Ni Tsan
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