Arafed bridge over a pond with a person walking across it
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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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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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