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    One day, in the killing, see a bright moon,
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    The ditch waves and push, disorderly piles, half of the spring sorrow half of the water
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    I had a dream. About rivers, about the universe, about dragonflies or the wind
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    From now on the spring and autumn two do not touch, the wind and the moon is not related
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    No matter to go and go, all is a floating Peng.
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    Flower full city, month assault clothes, young love old sad
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    Distant clouds brushed the hills, orange sunsets dotted the
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    Born in the dust drowned in the crowd died in the ideal platform
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    Everything from people, a hundred years are guests, life is short, carpe diem
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