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— Du Fu The lonely swan won’t drink nor eat, But longs to join its flock to fleet. Who will pity its shadow lonely, Astray in the clouds, it wails only. Out of sight, still it seems in view; Lost in grief, its song’s heard anew. What do insensible birds know? You hear only…
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— Wang Bo Soughing, the cool breeze blows; My wooded dell clean grows. It drives smoke off the rill, Rolls up mist over the hill, Leaves no trace when we part, And moves as if moved at heart. When sunset calms the scene, Hear the song of pines green.
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— Chen Zi’ang In late spring grows the orchid good, How luxuriant are its leaves green! Alone it adorns empty wood With red blooms and violet stems lean. Slowly, slowly shortens the day; Rippling, rippling blows autumn breeze. By the year’s end it fades away. What has become of it fragrance, please?
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— Luo Binwang Of autumn the cicada sings; In prison I’m worn out with care. How can I bear its blue black wings Which remind me of my grey hair? Heavy with dew it cannot fly; Drowned in the wind, its song’s not heard Who would believe its spirit high? Could I express my…
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— Wen Tingyun At dawn I rise, with ringing bells my cab goes, But grieved in thoughts of my home, I feel lost. As the moon sets over thatched inn, the cock crows; Footprints are left on wood bridge paved with frost. The mountain path is covered with oak leaves, The post-house bright with…
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— Du Mu A drizzling rain falls like tears on the Qingming Festival; The wayfarers’ hearts are going to break on their way. Where can a wine shop be found to drown his sad hours? A cowherd points to a cot amid apricot flowers.