Note on a Rainy Night to a Friend in the North
You ask me when I am coming. I do not know.
I dream of your mountains and autumn pools brimming all night with the rain.
Oh, when shall we be trimming wicks again, together in your western window?
When shall I be hearing your voice again, all night in the rain?
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Comments about this poem (Note on a Rainy Night to a Friend in the North by Li Shangyin )
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