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Flёur – a stone
They hit me with an iron rod - But I am a stone, cold and hard granite. I fall, without breaking, then, "I'm not in pain," I pretend.
It's not easy to melt or break me - I am a stone, cold and hard basalt. Only slightly scratched is my flesh, And bright sparks fly to the sides.

За всем следят машины благодати и любви.