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 не знаю, о ком думала Сара Тисдейл, но я только о тебе.... | ||
|  | by Sarah Teasdale I always think of you -- Your words are keener than their words, And they are gentler, too. When I look at other men, I wish your face were there, With its gray eyes and dark skin And tossed black hair. When I think of other men, Dreaming alone by day, The thought of you like a strong wind Blows the dreams away. | 
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