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My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My Crop Allows you of Corn IS But A Field of the tares,
and All My Good IS But VAIN Hope of GAIN;
of The Day IS Past; and yet the I SAW NO Sun,
and now the I Live, and now My Life IS DONE.
youthful era frost love
happy feast miserable
life of fruit barnyard grass are all
going through this life of delusion left with
time being to death, China is no longer
a butterfly in this life is not in
translation is not bad
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