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Exile’s Letter, by Ezra Pound (extract)

And once again we met, later, at the South bridge head.

And then the crowd broke up -and you went north to San palace.

And if you ask me how I regret that parting?

It is like the flowers falling at spring’s end,

confused, whirled in a tangle.

What is the use of talking! And there is no end of talking-

There is no end of things in the heart.

Original poem by Chinese poet Li Po, traslated by Ezra Pound (1915).

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