Li Bo put it in a poem, this West-of-the-Waters Abbey
Li Bo put it in a poem, this West-of-the-Waters Abbey
Old trees and crooked cliffs, wind in the upper rooms
Between drunk and sober I drifted three days
While blossoms white and crimson opened in the misty rain.
Old trees and crooked cliffs, wind in the upper rooms
Between drunk and sober I drifted three days
While blossoms white and crimson opened in the misty rain.
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