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
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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