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Answering Vice-Prefect Zhang

 As the years go by, give me but peace, 
Freedom from ten thousand matters.
I ask myself and always answer: What can be better than coming home? A wind from the pine-trees blows my sash, And my lute is bright with the mountain moon.
You ask me about good and evil fortune?.
.
.
.
Hark, on the lake there's a fisherman singing!

Poem by Wang Wei
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