Night Feast, Zuo Family Village

Windy woods thin moon going down
clothes bedewed clean zither taut
dark streams race the flowered path
spring stars wreathe a thatched hall
we con a book the candles burning short
admire a sword long do the cups go round
the poem done is droned in speech of Wu
the small skiff an impulse not forgotten
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Author of original: 
Tu Fu
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