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Untitled (I have grown used to endless nights in spring)
I have grown used to endless nights in spring,
Fleeing with wife and child, my hair turned grey.
In dreams I half make out a mother's tears,
While on the city walls the chieftans' banners change.
Having to see my friends turned into ghosts,
I snatch an angry poem from the swords,
Chant it, and bow my head.  I cannot wite it down.
The moonlight makes my black gown gleam like water.

                                    Lu Xun  (1931)
Orchids Index, Lu Xun Two Untitled
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Images Copyright 2000 Sunda