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Poem	Phoenixes that play here once, so that the place was named for them, Have abandoned it now to this desolated river; The paths of Wu Palace are crooked with weeds; The garments of Chin are ancient dust. ...Like this green horizon halving the Three Peaks, Like this Island of White Egrets dividing the river, A cloud has risen between the Light of Heaven and me, To hide his city from my melancholy heart.
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