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I traveled to Jiangnan
The face that waits for the season is like the blooming and falling of lotus flowers
If the east wind does not come, the catkins of March will not fly
Your heart is like a small lonely city
The street just like bluestone faces the evening
The sound is silent, the spring curtain of March is not lifted
The little window in your heart is tightly closed
My dada's horseshoes are beautiful mistakes
I am not a returnee, I am a passerby...
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