A young wife’s letter

Snow was falling like poplar catkins outside the gates of Yuhang when I watched you leave last year. This year, at the end of spring, poplar catkins are falling like snow and you are still away from home. In my bedroom at night, I invite the moonlight to drink wine with me while wind and dew come in uninvited. The goddess of the moon, who made a pair of swallows immortal, shines her light on our nest.