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Small pavillion on Lushan
Speaking My Mind
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Qi Ji 864-937
Poetry sickness
makes old age sickness even worse;
with the best of physicians
I'd still pay out huge sums in vain.
In life's remnant,
why must I give it up for nothing?
Before I die,
what harm if I amuse myself writing poems?
Flowing waters never return
save your sighs;
white clouds leave no trail
don't try to chase them!
An idle man
knows where to while away idleness:
yellow leaves
fresh breeze
a grove of cicadas.
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Qiǎn Huái
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Qíjǐ 864-937
Shībìng xiāng jiān lǎobìng shēn,
Shìyì tú gèng fèi qiān jīn.
Yúshēng qǐ bì chù pāorēng,
Wèi sǐ hé fáng lè yǒngyín.
Liúshuí bù huí xiū tàn xī,
Báiyún wū jì mò zhuīxún.
Xián shēn zì yǒu xián xiāo chǔ,
Huáng yè qīngfēng chán yī lín.
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