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    Spring flowers, autumn moon–when will you end?
    How much of the past do you recall?
    At the pavilion last night the east wind sobbed.
    I can hardly turn my head homeward
    in this moonlight.

    The carved pillars and the jade steps are still here.
    But the color of your cheeks is gone.
    When asked: “How much sorrow do you still have?”
    “Just like the flood of spring water
    rushing eastward.”

    Li Y (T’ang Dynasty Poet)
    translated by William Carlos Williams

as she wakes, she lights

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