Where is her green pavilion?
‘Tis high up among the blue clouds.
Her precious mirror hangs like the autumnal moon;
Her silk gown weighs lighter than the spring breezes.
Alone she sits, with her newly braided hair,
Till the sun wearily sets in the west;
Long has she been waiting.
Deep in sorrow, she gazes at the empty gold screen
A pair of wild geese pass honking in the sky.
In haste she cuts off a piece of silk
And scratches a little letter.
Oh, may they wild geese carry it to him!
~ Li Bai (701-762)