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The Hanging Clouds reveals my longing for my kinsfolk and my friends. My jar brimming with newly brewed wine and my garden overgrown with flowers, my longing for my folk cannot be satisfied. So it bursts into sighs.
Heavy the hanging cloud,
Misty the drizzling rain.
With darkness overflowed
The sky and earth remain.
Mute in east room I stay;
Alone I drink spring wine.
For my friends far away,
I scratch my hair and pine.