现在，只有回想死亡的悲哀时，我才忆起死亡的快乐。但是，记忆就如风中低语的一片秋叶，再也听不到了。
and ,“come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for joy thise and behold this gladsome thing that laugh in the sun.”
but none of my neighbours came to look upon my joy, and great ht and unvisited.
then my joy gre my dead sorroemory is an autumn leaf that murmurs in the ore.
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