The high score of poetry over prose. Urgent,

On a spring night, the lights of thousands of households gradually went out, and the noise of the day had long been calm. Suddenly there was a loud flute, and sad and euphemistic tunes flew over Los Angeles with the spring breeze. At this time, a poet who is far away from home is still asleep. He stood by the window, staring at the bright moon like a "white jade plate" alone, listening to the distant flute, lost in thought. The flute plays a song "Folding Willow", which belongs to the ancient music of Han Yuefu and expresses the pain of parting. In ancient times, when parting, willow branches were often broken off from the roadside to send; Willow, willow is just to express their reluctance. On such a spring night, listening to such a song full of parting feelings, who can not miss homesickness?