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In your lamb's fur you saunter about; |
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In your fox's fur you hold your court. |
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How should I not think anxiously about you? |
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My toiled heart is full of grief. |
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In your lamb's fur you wander aimlessly about; |
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In your fox's fur you appear in your hall. |
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How should I not think anxiously about you? |
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My heart is wounded with sorrow. |
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Your lamb's fur, as if covered with ointment; |
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Glistens when the sun comes forth. |
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How should I not think anxiously about you? |
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To the core of my heart I am grieved. |
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If I could but see the white cap, |
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And the earnest mourner worn to leanness! -- |
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My toiled heart is worn with grief! |
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If I could but see the white [lower] dress! -- |
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My heart is wounded with sadness! |
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I should be inclined to go and live with the wearer! |
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If I could but see the white knee-covers! -- |
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Sorrow is knotted in my heart! |
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I should almost feel as of one soul with the wearer! |
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In the low wet grouds is the carambola tree; |
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Soft and pliant are its branches, |
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With the glossiness of tender beauty. |
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I should rejoice to be like you, [O tree], without consciousness. |
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In the low, damp grounds is the carambola tree; |
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Soft and delicate are its flowers, |
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With the glossiness of its tender beauty. |
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I should rejoice to be like you, [O tree], without a family. |
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In the low, damp grounds is the carambola tree; |
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Soft and delicate is its fruit, |
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With the glossiness of its tender beauty. |
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I should rejoice to be like you, [O tree], without a household. |
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Not for the violence of the wind; |
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Not for a rushing motion of a chariot; -- |
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But when I look to the road to Zhou, |
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Am I pained to the core of my heart. |
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Not for the whirlwind; |
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Not for the irregular motion of a chariot; -- |
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But when I look to the road to Zhou, |
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Am I sad to the core of my heart. |
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Who can cook fish? |
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I will wash his boilers for him. |
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Who will loyally go to the west? |
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I will cheer him with good words. |