| No promises—yet I wait |
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| If I'd known / it was old age calling |
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| The Great net |
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| If love could be bought |
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| On autumn nights / the dew is |
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| In this world / what can I point to |
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| Song of the Lute |
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| After the Last Light of the Setting Sun Had Vanished, the Moon Shone in My Window |
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| Yüan Wei-chih and I Are Both Old and Heirless, a Fact We've Lamented in Words and Touched on in Our Poetry |
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| Mount Yoshino / looking at pines awhile |
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