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— Liu Yuxi Gone with yellow chrysanthemums last year, You come back when cicada’s song I hear. Your soughing wakes me from dreams at midnight, A year’s wrinkles are seen in mirror bright. Steeds missing frontier grass with bristles rise; Eagles longing for clouds open sleepy eyes. I’ll gaze my fill into the boundless…
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— Han Yu The trees and grass know that soon spring will go away; Of red blooms and green leaves they make gorgeous display. But willow catkins and elm pods are so unwise, They wish to be flying snow darkening the skies.
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— Han Yu On vernal day no flowers were in bloom, alas! In second moon I’m glad to see the budding grass. But white snow dislikes the late coming vernal breeze, It plays the parting flowers flying through the trees.
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— Yang Juyuan The early spring presents to poets a fresh scene: The willow twigs half yellow and half tender green. When the Royal Garden’s covered with blooming flowers, Then it would be the visitors’ busiest hours.
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— Zhang Ji Moon sets, crows cry, frost fills the sky; Facing dim fishing boats neath maples, sad I lie. Beyond the city wall of Gusu, from Temple of Cold Hill Bells break the ship-borne roamer’s dream in midnight still.