Written on the Night of the Twenty-ninth of the First Month

Wooden bridge, gaunt willows—
here the thatched hut stands open.
By the stream, the mountain boy announces
that a guest has come.
Together we sit in the cold mist,
among the pines and bamboo,
warm up wine in the snow and gaze
at the plum blossoms in the courtyard.
Author of original: 
Yün Shou-p'ing
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