Un câine fără timp latră din străvechi.
A descoperit imemorialul glas pierdut,
Şi-l strigă.
Un câine fără timp latră din străvechi.
A descoperit imemorialul glas pierdut,
Şi-l strigă.
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Each drop of rain is wasted in the wind, as whistles of pain remain with no blink. To whom should we thank for things that come and go? Who should we hate for nothing to
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