Mocked by Tom Sharp

The crows are mocking me— flying about and crying hoarsely. They’re mocking me because I’m crying— I’m crying for a man who might never return. Through the mist, I can hardly see the silk threads on my loom.

乌夜啼 by 李白 (Li Bai)

黄云城边乌欲栖,归飞哑哑枝上啼。 机中织锦秦川女,碧纱如烟隔窗语。 停梭怅然忆远人,独宿孤房泪如雨。