Alone I sleep at the foot of the jagged cliff;
The steam and haze through the day do not dispel.
Sitting in my space filled with dark and gloom,
I’m cut off from any noise and clatter of my thought.
In my dreams I go off to wander thru the Golden Gates;
As my soul returns, it passes along the slippery Stone Bridge.
I've thrown away all what had troubled me for long;
Uncorking now and then, my wine-gourd I hang to a tree.
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