Farewell poems about folding willows and morning rain

1. The morning rain in Weicheng is lightly dusty, and the guesthouses are green and willow-colored. I advise you to drink a glass of wine and leave Yangguan in the west without any old friends.

2. The sound of someone’s jade flute spreads into the spring breeze and fills Luo City. In this nocturne, I heard the broken willows, who can't help but feel the love of my hometown.

3. Where the world is sad, there is a pavilion for seeing off guests. The spring breeze knows how to avoid bitterness and does not send green willow branches.

4. In the past, I left, and the willows lingered. Now I come to think about it, and the rain and snow are falling. The journey is slow and full of hunger and thirst. My heart is sad, but I don’t know how sad I am.

5. Ba Anqing comes to say goodbye frequently, and we can’t bear to be together until spring. The flying catkins in my own house are still uncertain, and I am stumbling over the hanging threads to trip up passers-by.