Centuries are done!
But my land and I exist yet,
Under the visage of desolation,
Camouflaged by an arrogant power;
Bloody soldier, assassin, executioner
Amending, mastering it;
While I stay in abstract hatred,
Robbed off my cream of youth,
Whose blood has left no stain;
There, on the blood-saturated land,
And set up, halted in mockery,
I watch the mockery of time prevail;
While...
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