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Far away, beyond the hills, where a forgotten churchyard slumbers, Forgotten fairy tales are kept in the dust of the deadwood About brave heroes, about battles, about the sound of wheels, About eternal love, which knows neither calamities nor masks. And in this simple as a breath, the truth of the day I see hope, I feel the beating of life., And every drop of rain is like a holy sign., It washes away the sorrows and worries that were tormented in vain.
The image features a serene landscape with rolling green hills, dotted with trees. Two rustic wooden wheels frame the view, leading to a quaint village nestled in the valley under a bright sky.