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Sunday, September 23, 2012



In a triumph of divine glory made in
Lying within me old shroud
Luck often not battle
Knowing the truth always inglorious
And both could win
Who knows and nothing worth losing
Even the same court does not spread
The fury that is certainly melancholy.
Resist by not knowing the plot as
Life in painful and strong calls
In Blazing contumacious who is known
The death very closely and not silent,
A soul does not show well vassal
And even search in vain for any boon.


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