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You find a flower half-buried in leaves,And in your eye its very fate resides.Loving beauty, you caress the bloom;Soon enough, you’ll sweep petals from the floor.Terrible to love the lovely so,To count your own years, to say “I’m old,”To see a flower half-buried in leavesAnd come face to face with what you are.
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~ 寒山 Han Shan
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