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The Narcissus
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Morning, about six, as I look at the rim of the hill
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Kiss
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This morning, in the faint light of dawn a pheasant called, lords
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Clams
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Deep in the Mountain
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The Modern Fable
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If only I could pretend to be a bow woven with rattan
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Innocently a frog squats
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I raise my hands, and the clear water
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