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Here he is, my good old friend! He's at Yellow Crane Terrace on a western departure. And--we're saying goodbye, goodbye. He's in a cloud of third-month blossoms. He's off downstream to Yang-chou. That shadow there is his lonely sail. Now there's nothing left of it. All the blue is empty now. All you can see is that long, long river. It flows to the edge of the sky.
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