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In a lonely wilderness, the soft strains of a pipa float on the wind. Before a seated woman rest two cups of w…

In a lonely wilderness, the soft strains of a pipa float on the wind. Before a seated woman rest two cups of wine—she waits, it seems, for your arrival.

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In a lonely wilderness, the soft strains of a pipa float on the wind. Before a seated woma… | Where Winds Meet Database