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Sound of paddles slapping the waves
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Like tinkling gems, neither dewdrops nor tears stay
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They become fragrant, and the Spring ends
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Against the cherries on the hazy hilltop
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Loneliness is more intense with frost than with snow
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Thinking of the past I wake
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Autumn gone, the past distant in the great sky
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Look, this must be love that fills the sky!
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Through a rift in evening rainclouds
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Away from the direction of falling blossoms
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