The City of Choan
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he phoenix are at play on their terrace.The phoenix are gone, the river flows on alone.Flowers and grassCover over the dark pathwhere lay the dynastic house of the Go.The bright cloths and bright caps of ShinAre now the base of old hills. The Three Mountains fall through the far heaven,The isle of White Heronsplits the two streams apart.Now the high clouds cover the sunAnd I can not see Choan afarAnd I am sad.
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