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Σεράντα μήλα
Forty apples
Seranda mila
Forty red apples,
knotted in a kerchief tight.
Though you taste forty loves,
you’ll never find my like.
Where I stand, I’m overtaken,
where I stand, my senses sway.
My knees begin to tremble—
I feel my life slip away.
Σεράντα μήλα - forty apples
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