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My thoughts flew back a
thousand years to see
this home in ancient Anhui sunlight bathed.
Another girl like me was
pleased to know
the sweet soft fragrance of a morning rose.
I wonder if she took a
snow-white flower
and placed it in her jet black hair that day
as sunlight met the surface of the pond.
Laughter, like the crystal
water’s flowing,
She greets the morning with her friend and maid.
Cross corridors of time we
find the garden growing
Where butterfly on green silk dresses played.
No noisy crowds so many years
ago,
the
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