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A Memory of Zhou Yu
The river flows east and takes its toll,
Of legends formed in times of old.
From ancient times, it's known so well,
With tales of heroes that still tell.
The ruins lie to the west so grand,
Where human tales are often told,
Of Zhou Yu's bravery and command,
In battles fought at Red Cliff bold.
Rocks clash and skies they pierce with might,
Waves crash and shore they fiercely hold,
With snowdrifts piling up in sight,
And mountains that resemble a painting's
gold.
So many heroes, one time's delight,
With strength and beauty to unfold,
And memories of a time so bright,
When Zhou Yu lived, young and bold.
So far away, yet still in mind,
The memory of Zhou Yu we hold,
With feathered fans and silken bind,
And laughter that could never be sold.
His home, a dream where he still roams,
In memories that will never grow old,
With hair as black as river foam,
And a heart that overflows with love untold. |
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to look like or be like someone or something |
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