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yusphyno
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My brother, your burial await you when you will join those that have gone before you for a man can't tell history of seven continents while your birth is running towards your death make your living to wipe away coming sorrow though, there shall be lots of tomorrow for tomorrow never end till the world will reach the end.
Let your fruit wipe away our tears for, they shall be our joy and happiness after you gone, as our custom and tradition though, the refugee may count it as superstition wait, let me pardon you and endure for I have keep my conscience pure by the time I return to our ancestral fathers above I shall not be blamed for your impassive
Let me tell you last word of your future peace one day your soul shall gain peace and cease a day your heart will gain its freedom and your body will be laid in the isolated room but your death is the coming day when your body will be rigid like a moulded clay and it shall be taken to the solemn grave as your heart will have been lifted above.
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