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My soul is a wanderer, it goes on long paths, everything works tirelessly on roads or trails. My soul is a wanderer, it glows, then it crumples and, like the dew of heaven, it is washed with tears. Her paths are not close either by swamps, then by heights, she bumps into stones. Her paths are not close, not all are lined with silks, she lives, she is sad. He will repay everything with retribution, neither silver nor gold. My soul is a wanderer and prays and repents...
A woman in a green dress walks barefoot along a wooden path in a vibrant forest, surrounded by lush greenery and glowing plants, with light streaming through the trees.