ancient style poetry
Quarrying Drinking Alone by Moonlight
采石独酌
Wang Ya
To fall is not sangrakwol in hand, holding a century-old fishing Lun Ho.
I do not know Spring Vientiane table, misty green smoke into the Riverside.
Evening, turned upside down there, no one wine cooked poetry temperature.
Always laughing into the loess, Duolei outstanding chicken Secretary morning.
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