My child wafts peace. When I lean over him, It is not just the smell of soap. All the people were children wafting peace. (And in the whole land, not even one Millstone remained that still turned). Oh, the land torn like clothes That can`t be mended. Hard, lonely fathers even in the cave of the Makhpela* Childless silence. My child wafts peace. His mother`s womb promised him What God cannot Promise us.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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