| The dry foliage riding on wind is whispering,
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| Calming down the world with its incantations,
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| Like it was calling again in morning to go To Battle!
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| In dreaming depth of blind darkness,
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| Grey snowstorm fluttering the flags,
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| Like dead people are loath to go To Battle!
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| Snow was falling, on forgotten fields,
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| And keeping its silence
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| Snow, please cover the bodies of the fallen in battle,
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| So for the whole night the wind will sing them songs,
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| So the grass will wake up in the mornings,
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| By the new life between forgotten bodies… |