Arafed tree with a bridge over a body of water

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At dusk
,
a flock of crows landed on the old trees entangled with dead vines
,
emitting a mournful wail
.
The water under the small bridge is rumbling
,
and the farmers on the side of the small bridge are cooking smoke
.
The setting sun gradually lost its luster and fell from the west
.
In the cold night
,
only lonely travelers drift in distant places
.
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