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Words of a poor sculptor
The sun of the summers shining brightly,
burning the skin.
But still I am dedicated in making you with boils on feet and clay on chin
No food, no water for innumerable hours,
making me as thin as rake
But still I am devoted to make you, ...
burning the skin.
But still I am dedicated in making you with boils on feet and clay on chin
No food, no water for innumerable hours,
making me as thin as rake
But still I am devoted to make you, ...
