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The Dying Soilder
I feel it, I really feel it...

The mountains sing to me. It’s a beautiful song.
How beautiful the sky, the evening moon...
Is that flute I hear... such enticing sounds. The grass feels so soft, must be new born. I see the cows grazing them, a calf dancing around his mother... and being ignored. I wonder what joy he must feel. The tall grasses have a unique...