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Morning Sky,
Inca trail,
Many a dream makes riot in the dusk.
One dream ousts the dream before, then is
    driven off by the next.
The ousted dream is black as ink: so is the
    one that stays.
Both seem to say, "See what a fine colour I am."
Fine they may be, but in the dark you cannot tell.
Nor can you know in the dark which one is talking.

In the dark you cannot tell, with your fever and
Come, clear dream, come.

                                    Lu Xun  (1918)
Two Poems for a friend Index, Lu Xun Mourning Fan Ainong
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