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He’s never cried 　　And already let the dark night 　　Slip off a paper white 　　For many times 　　The autumn wind instantly blows off 　　The light of a lamp 　　While my heart is still barren 　　And lit with a shame 　　By the name of faintness 　　From those verses 　　Release 　　The souls of the dead 　　How much flame 　　A poet’s body could ever have 　　When burning 　　It whines as Xun’s wail 　　Some beings