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User Rating:
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6.0
/10 (13 votes)
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Breeze soft, sun frail, spring still early. In a new lined dress my heart was refreshed, But when I rose from sleep I felt a chill. I put plum blossoms in my hair. Now they are withered. Where is my homeland? I forgot it only when drunk. The sandal wood incense burned out while I slept. Now the perfume has gone, But the wine has not gone.
Li Ching Chao
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Thursday, January 01, 2004 |
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Read poems about / on: spring, rose, hair, sleep, sun, heart
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