| I eat my food / but it has no flavor |
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| Like a little boat pushing through reeds |
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| If only I had time |
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| On a spring day, / the trailing willows |
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| Expressing My Humble Thoughts |
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| Eight hundred days |
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| On Travel |
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| As far as sleeping goes |
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| At the corner of the reed fence |
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| Like a throng of warriors |
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