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— Meng Haoran Lonely, lonely, what is there to hope for? Day by day I come back without an end. I would seek fragrant grass in native shore. How I regret to part with my old friend! I’m one whom those in high place would elude, For there are few connoisseurs in the state.…
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— Luo Binwang The hero left his friend With angry hair on end. The martyr’s now no more, The waves cold as of yore.
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— Bai Juyi I’m saddened by the courtyard peonies brilliant red, At dusk only two of them are left on their bed. I am afraid they can’t survive the morning blast, By lantern light I take a look at the long, long last.
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— Bai Juyi All flowers in late spring have fallen far and wide, But peach blossoms are full-blown on this mountainside. I oft regret spring’s gone without leaving its trace; I do not know it’s come up to adorn this place.
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— Yuan Zhen Around the cottage like Tao’s autumn flowers grow; Along the hedge I stroll until the sun slants low. Not that I favor partially the chrysanthemum, But it is the last flower after which none will bloom.
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— Li He The mason of Duanzhou has marvel-doing hands, Whetting his knife to carve blue clouds, aloft he stands. He grinds the stone in order to make an inkwell; Violet flowers look dim like cold blood shed pell-mell. Black flowers seem like spring at noon behind the screen; The pine-soot ink steeped in…