| The boy took a stroll the shores of the well-constructed brook,
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| carefully climbed a waterfall, built of smiprecious rock…-
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| and gazed at the crystal that he had picked up from the ground.
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| Washing the boy’s bare feet, the cold clear water lapped around,
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| murmured silently, as it flew underneath the boy’s white gown…-
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| so that he, somewhat leaking, became the semblance of a well.
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| As he laid the crystal down again, the pale boy realised
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| that his three-coloured, fair-haired rabbit of luck…-
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| and the startled, pale, rattled boy.
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| «Behold, my blood is like MILK, or MERCURY», the pale boy cried.
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| «No, it’s not red… more like dancing serpents,
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| of wich one is BLACK, the other one WHITE.
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| Two separate, coiling streams that never mix, never unite,
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| but as one they’re flowing, flowing… ever flowing side by side!» |