On the twelfth day of July... I accidentally came up with a short poem... Alas, after a master reviewed it, he criticized that the rhymes were not整齐 (整齐 means neat or整齐 here)... I couldn't figure it out no matter how I thought about it... I could only sigh that his classical Chinese learning was taught by American teachers, like on Sohu Space... The poem goes:
The sky spans three thousand li, often lamenting the rarity of geese; day and night in bitter torment, longing for your return.
It indeed has a bit of a sentimental tone...
(Note: In the translation, I've tried to keep the meaning as close as possible. However, some nuances might be lost, especially regarding cultural references and the critique of the poem's style.)