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■ The oak
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The sea smells its Salt
From every sparkle The moments sit worthy of martyrization At every end of coast Anyway, in the middle, between them Is the heart Luliki has only ether A self with dark whirling hair A face pale like foam And a dynamite in every hand She wouldn`t explode them But when she searches for pearls She only unbinds the Salt Because the sea gulps her down
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