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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-02-21 | | Submited by Petru Dincă
The sea is awash with roses O they blow
Upon the land The still hills fill with their scent O the hills flow on their sweetness As on God's hand O love, it is so little we know of pleasure Pleasure that lasts as the snow But the sea is awash with roses O they blow Upon the land
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