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Comments about varghona poewski
Present stands here
with the leaves of the past,
they are to toss away, ne’er to last.
Thus, open your eyes and hear-
the bard sing about the death of fear,
Heated warriors of the sun strike with a blast
Their bodies move tumultuously, mightly and fast
They march towards the tears
and their spears are cast.
Here comes the victory against the sorrow that’ll ever last.