Flood
The lingering clouds, rolling, rolling,
And the settled rain, dripping, dripping,
In the Eight Directions — the same dusk.
The level lands — one great river.
Wine I have, wine I have:
Idly I drink at the eastern window.
Longingly — I think of my friends,
But neither boat nor carriage comes.
And the settled rain, dripping, dripping,
In the Eight Directions — the same dusk.
The level lands — one great river.
Wine I have, wine I have:
Idly I drink at the eastern window.
Longingly — I think of my friends,
But neither boat nor carriage comes.
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