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Li Yu (937-938)

Ci to the tune of "Happiness of Meeting"

 Wordless, alone, I go upstairs to the western chamber.
 The moon is like a sickle.
 The lonely trees in the courtyard are
   locked up there with the autumn night.
 	Scissors do not sever
 	Nor reason unravel
  	The pain of separation.
 It lodges in the heart
   with a taste all its own.

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