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Poem	On waters, spread without end, Dressed with the sunset so purple, It sings and prophesies for land, Unable to lift the smashed wings' couple... The charge of Tartars' hordes it claims, And bloody set of executions, Earthquake, and hunger and the flames, The death of justice, crime’s intrusion... And caught with fear, cold and smooth, The fair face flames as one of lovers’, But sound with prophetic truth The lips that the bloody foam covers!...
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