As the states of Wu and Yue piled plot upon plot,
the silk-washing goddess offered ease;
a pair of laughing dimples turned the prince's head,
and a hundred thousand soldiers let fall their shining spears.
Fan Li, having succeeded, went into retirement;
Wu Xu died for his advice, and his country was wiped out.
And yet, today, by the long river at Zhuji,
there's nothing but a green hill named Zhu Luo.
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