P080
From Poetry Talks
Poems by
Poem in English | Appraised By⠉ | Critique in English⠉ | Critical Terms⠉ | Entry |
---|---|---|---|---|
The willow on the roadside, its green boughs like billowing smoke.
I stop the horse and trouble you to snap one for me. Only the spring breeze feels most sorry for it, blowing briskly on the bough now in my hand. | E039 |
Critiques by
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