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Hello! My hero is Sergei. On the fidgety of a juniper grove Autumn, the red mare, walks in whispers Dropping leaves fr om its mane on the ground. And the clang of its hoofs is heard In the film of the river banks Wh ere no wind goes round. But the wanderer, it raises the foliage On the roads and rustles it, Contemporary on foot crumb aside bit. And it kisses the wounds of the Christ On the mountain ash tree That are burning scarlet privet.com
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