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To a Withered Branch
Lin Huiyin
A branch of withering plum blossoms
Is your unutterable sorrow!
After a shower of rain tonight,
I close the window to say goodbye to you.
But I imagine the evening will solace to you,
The most sympathetic waning moon shines on you.
Fallen asleep, I put down your gentleness in my poem,
You might be budding to make a green shade.
