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burning so brightly it appears like glass. What
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her heart needs its hidden spark, but the man shows
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What more can we ask
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and I among fields of speech,
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Forget the fair, unfortunate
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Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
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¿Qué hierbas del olvido ha dado el gusto
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one that could memorize
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Lo giorno se n’andava, e l’aere bruno
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behind me. I have come here