Outside my screen, petals collect in heaps of red
and snow-white.
This reminds me that after the blooming
of the cherry-apple tree
It is time to lament the dying spring.
Singing and drinking have come to an end;
jade cups are empty;
Lamps are flickering.
Hardly able to bear the sorrows and regrets
of my dreams,
I hear the mournful cry of the cuckoo.
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spring is still young.The sudden change of the lightbrightened my spirit.But upon awakening from slumber,I felt the chill air;The plum flower withered in my hair.Where can I call my native land?Forget – I cannot, except in winewhen I drown my care.Incense was lighted when I went to sleep;Though the embers are now cold,the warmth of…
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Our boat starts at night
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To the tune of ‘Intoxicated in the Shadow of Flowers’
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This morning I dreamed I followed
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To the tune of ‘Song of Peace’
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