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— Li Bai Rugged is the road, I hear, Built by the pioneer. In front steep mountains rise; Beside my horse cloud flies. Over plank way trees hang down; Spring water girds the town. Decided our rise and fall. Do not bother at all!
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— Li Qi In the eighth moon the weed cold grows, The autumn waves surge with white crest. The mast shivers as north wind blows; Why should my guest go to the west? The rain no longer drizzles on hilltop; Out of the door rises the evening tide. At night along the beach my…
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— Du Mu Orioles sing for miles amid red blooms and green trees; By hills and rills wine shop streamers wave in the breeze. Four hundred eighty splendid temples still remain Of Southern Dynasties in the mist and rain.