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The Thear

The bird's singing falls silent in the bosk
And barren lies the mountain and the valley
And now upon my dreary existence
Falls the last sunbeam,
The last sunbeam, the sunbeam
However, even if every trace of the happiness
I dreamt about is scattered
I still keep the thear,
That you cried for me.
I still keep the thear,
That you cried for me.
 
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Die Thräne

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