[47] [47] The Heavenly Poetesses In their bark of bamboo reeds The heavenly poetesses Float across the sky. Poems are falling from them Swift as the wind that shakes the lance-like bamboo leaves; The stars close around like bubbles Stirred by the silver oars of poems passing. [48] [48] The Old Love and the New Beware, for the dying vine can hold The strongest oak. Only by cutting at the root Can love be altered. Late in the night A rosy glimmer yet defies the darkness. But the evening is growing late,
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