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 Pleasure lasting, with courtezans, going and coming without hindrance, With the willow flakes falling like snow, And the vermilioned girls getting drunk about sunset, And the water a hundred feet deep reflecting green eyebrows —Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight, Gracefully painted— And the girls singing back at each other, Dancing in transparent brocade, And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it, Tossing it up under the clouds. And all this comes to an end. And is not again to be met with. I went up to the court for examination, Tried Layu's luck, offered the Choyo song, And got no promotion, and went back to the East Mountains white-headed. And once again, later, we met at the South bridge-head. And then the crowd broke up, you went north to San palace, And if you ask how I regret that parting: It is like the flowers falling at Spring's end Confused, whirled in a tangle.