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When I was young, I prepared that in spring,
l’d travel around the world by pathways unknown,
My mother had embroidered a shirt for me,
With threads of red and threads of black,
With threads of red and black, embroidery.
The two colors of mine, the two colors,
You are both here upon the cloth, and in my soul.
The two colors of mine, the two colors,
The red one – that is love, the black one – that is grief.
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