On the blue waves of the ocean
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Only the stars will shine in the sky
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The lonely ship is rushing
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Rushing on all sails.
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High masts do not bend
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Weathervanes do not make noise on them,
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And silently into the open hatches
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Cast iron guns look.
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The captain is not heard on it,
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No sailors are visible on it;
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But rocks, and secret shoals,
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And he does not care about storms.
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There is an island in that ocean -
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Desert and gloomy granite;
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On the island there is a grave,
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And the emperor is buried in it.
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He is buried without scolding honors
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Enemies in loose sand
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A heavy stone lies on it,
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He couldn't get up from the grave.
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And at the hour of his sad death,
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At midnight, as the year ends,
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Quiet to the high shore
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The airship is landing.
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From the coffin then the emperor,
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Waking up, is suddenly;
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He's wearing a triangular hat
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And a gray field coat.
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Mighty arms crossed
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Lowering your head to your chest
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He goes and sits on the steering wheel
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And quickly sets off.
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He rushes to France dear,
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Where he left the glory and the throne,
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Left an heir-son
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And he is the old guard.
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And just the native land
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Seeing in the darkness of the night
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Again his heart flutters
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And the eyes are on fire.
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To the shore with big steps
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He walks boldly and straight
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Companions loudly he calls
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And the marshals are menacingly calling.
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But the mustachioed grenadiers are sleeping -
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In the plain where the Elbe roars,
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Under the cold snow of Russia
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Under the hot sand of the pyramids.
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And the marshals do not hear the call:
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Others died in battle
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Others cheated on him
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And they sold their sword.
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And, stomping on the ground with his foot,
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Angrily he back and forth
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Walking along the quiet shore
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And again he calls loudly:
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He calls his dear son,
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Support in perverse fate;
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He promises half the world
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France only for myself.
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But in the color of hope and strength
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His royal son died,
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And for a long time, waiting for him,
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The emperor stands alone -
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He stands and sighs heavily,
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Until the east shines
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And bitter tears fall
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From the eyes to the cold sand
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Then to your magical ship,
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Lowering your head to your chest
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He goes and, waving his hand,
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The way back starts. |