I ponder on the poem of The Precious Dagger. 

My road has wound through many years. 
…Now yellow leaves are shaken with a gale; 
Yet piping and fiddling keep the Blue Houses merry. 
On the surface, I seem to be glad of new people; 
But doomed to leave old friends behind me, 
I cry out from my heart for Xinfeng wine 
To melt away my thousand woes.

Li Shangyin

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