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My hut is at the foot
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Through autumn fields of bush clover
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Now summer's come
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We part / I go beyond the
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Who Says a Painting Must Look Like Life?
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What is constant
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Song of the Lute
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After the Last Light of the Setting Sun Had Vanished, the Moon Shone in My Window
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Yüan Wei-chih and I Are Both Old and Heirless, a Fact We've Lamented in Words and Touched on in Our Poetry
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Mount Yoshino / looking at pines awhile
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