From
monanotlisa: When you see this, post a poem on your journal.
SONG AT YEAR'S END
The year ends thus: northern winds, white snow
shrouding Tung-t'ing Lake and all Hsiao and Hsiang.
Under cold skies, as fishermen tend frozen nets, Mo-yao
tribesmen shoot geese. Their mulberry bows go twangBut Ch'u people like fish, not birds. Let the geese
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