These years
These years remain goodbye days
Game, pass an isthmus
Thoughts folâtrement under trees
When ondo i ent the frondais it s the star
The sails of the firmament telling us two
This talk only true of a life
To follow intensely you see as a coming and going
meaning rich in the May moon spring
New and resurgent
At a time
Feels these years bye days
Where an isthmus of thoughts going on under the trees ...
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