When the swallows returned last year they made their nest in the embroidery room. They gathered clay from the flower-garden, and scattered dust over harp and books.

When the swallows returned this year, no one heard their twittering speech. She who had rolled up the screen for them was there no more… in the amber twilight a soft pattering rain.~Hsin Ch’i-chi*

Hammad Rais‘ Weekend Sky

*cited: Trans. Anonymous. The Jade Flute Chinese Poems in Prose. The Project Gutenberg Ebook of The Jade Flute.