| A gray fog hangs on the edges of the days
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| The wind tosses this curtain and rushes into the sky
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| And then sometimes blue and white flash
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| When more and more colors appear
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| In the autumn melancholy of winding roads
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| He knocks on the gate windows, comes to our threshold
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| Green turns to gold, silver and bronze
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| A procession of so many colors sets off in front of us
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| In the sky, the cloud rolls pink sails
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| Because the moon is already spreading the navy blue background with stars
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| Every day we try to do a similar miracle
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| Turn the gray of the earth into golden bread and honey
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| But it is going hard for us, sometimes in reverse
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| Help us in this, Lord, tell us how
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| Give us more strength, so give us more strength
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| Make May in our heart, a green grove
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| Let us not be overwhelmed by the hardships of everyday trance
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| Let us have these few chances from time to time
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| It is not your fault that it is what it is
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| But for us, make a little gesture
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| Bread in the glow of the sun, wine in the glow of the stars
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| Don't leave the walls of these colorless cities
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| Gray-rusted wall, dull flocks of clouds
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| As if the walls took the clouds as a pattern
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| And only somewhere, in the distance, knock on the window
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| A branch of white lilac ...
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| It is the wind on the ocarina that reminds us of the old days
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| Although the night is dark all around and the moon is gray and white
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| That wine and bread were promised
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| About which the blind dreamed, the deaf heard a whisper
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| From which the blooming orchard blushes
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| The fish shines by the shore, the animal leaves a trace
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| Every day we try to ... |