li po
you ask what my soul does away in the sky,
i inwardly smile but I cannot reply;
like the peach-blossoms carried away by the stream,
i soar to a world of which you cannot dream.
translated by herbert a. giles
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From
the Chou Dynasty
1112 – 249 B.C.
Pure is the white pony,
Feeding on the bean-sprouts in my stackyard.
Keep him hobbled, keep him bridled,
Let him stay through all evenings.
So may my lover
Here have his peace.
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