When a Cossack shot right through left his horse
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In the heat, a scythe flew over the stone to calm the revelry.
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When the laity did not have enough saliva to swallow the salt of prayers
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Your blond hair, in the laughter of the moon's roughness, has become darker than pitch.
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That year, the gypsies did not put out the fires and hurried to the south.
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Knives in the spring were sharp pecked scent.
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She did not keep the bridle of the extravagant need in the black body.
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In that year, without dragging a baby, a colt sealed the mouth.
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The sung hangman slid like a tower along the wide river.
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The districts snarled like a chest-deep locust horde in sin.
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The earth stocked up with a powerless female of tears, whimpered from wounds.
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The singer hid the deduction in the pools of his eyes, walked to Iran.
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Sha, meticulous youth
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In the feast of stories, who is worth what, -
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Ask at the graves.
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Nestor is frisky, name the cut, -
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Help the sighted.
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Where autumn muzzles
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They beat their chests on the ground.
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Faces smashed into blood
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Think to reconcile.
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Amused by Kolocha
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The eye of Kerochey leaked out.
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Where the snows are stripped
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The children are howling.
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Bast shoes worn out
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In search of Russia.
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Soul to shreds,
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Degenerated into creatures.
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The edge where the nail rules
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Light lonely
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Don't straighten your shoulders
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The nerve is treated with a tube.
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I myself am marked
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Wild tornado.
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In juicy herbs, Olga,
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Who shouted to us: Bitter!
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Perez De Cuellar...
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Perez De Cuellar...
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I could not cut my ears to the ashen ringing of the unfortunate youth.
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With a viscous tar he married his voice, bitten his lips with a crimson.
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Where the mother's womb was torn open by a tagan of piles, a tear washed away the soot.
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There, the orphan trotter called the owner by the morning steppe.
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A dank day slept,
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How a tramp drowned in love
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The edge of the table cut the forehead.
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You won't warm naked
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Fingers freeze with tin
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He took a sample from the poor fellows. |