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A pair of golden orioles
In a jade-green willow tree
Some pearly egrets in a line
In a sky of pure azure
The mountains capped with ancient snow
In my window facing west
And boats that ply a thousand miles
From my door to distant Wu
Golden birds, calling
A willow tree, jade-green
Line of egrets, rising
White on powder-blue
Western hills in my window
With centuries of snow
At my door, boats from Shanghai
A thousand miles away
