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A newly-versed song, a cup of same old wine,
and the same old gazebo in fine weather as that of last year.
The sun is sinking, when will it also rise?
Reluctantly, I lament for the fallen flowers of no return.
Deja vu, I see the swallows come back as usual.
Alone again I stroll, along the scented path of the same rockery.
PS These days came often the obituries pertaining to the old acquaintances, colleagues, and classmates of mine. Suddenly, I thought of subjuct famous verses.
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