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Spring water flooded at south and north around my humble house;
no one but gull flocks came to pay visits on me everyday.
Never had I swept for anyone the trail shrouded in fallen flowers;
only was I going to open this thatch door for an honored guest like you today.
Not a decent spread could I prepare as in this backwater;
in reduced circumstances only could I entertain you wine of old stock.
With your permission I would call the old man of next door over the hedges,
joining us to drink up all of the wine left in the cups.
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