Ten years, dead and living dim and draw apart.　　I don't try to remember,　　But forgetting is hard.　　Lonely grave a thousand miles off,　　Cold thoughts, where can I talk them out?　　Even if we met, you wouldn't know me,　　Dust on my face,　　Hair like frost. 　　In a dream last night suddenly I was home.　　By the window of the little room,　　You were combing your hair and making up.　　You turned and looked, not speaking,　　Only lines of tears coursing down.　　Year after year will it break my heart?　　The moonlit grave,　　The stubby pines. 

苏轼《江城子》十年生死两茫茫，不思量，自难忘。千里孤坟，无处话凄凉。纵使相逢应不识，尘满面，鬓如霜。 夜来幽梦忽还乡，小轩窗，正梳妆。相顾无言，惟有泪千行。料得年年断肠处，明月夜，短松岗

that poetry makes me think of sth sad~