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in the dead of night, not consciously flow tears of happiness, I in the memories of hard, tears for whom flow. Finally, the mind is still a blank, hypocritical for ever lost a beautiful love and tears and modest for everything they have shed tears, strong for their own ideals and tears. This can't convince yourself, inwardly shanran, facing the sky had, of course, to conquer the integrity of, brooding, gradually blurred their consciousness, vague dreams touched the tears of happiness. |
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