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.
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Author of original: 
Yün Shou-p'ing
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