przemowoAnalizator/testSet/pos/My_native_landYour_pic.txt

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2020-01-06 14:46:37 +01:00
My native land
Your picks and shovels
From dawn till dusk digging,
And all the hot shrapnel
You sowed war.
Do not you just muffled explosions,
Not just kicked up to the skies.
Of those fragments could grow
Long ago, the iron forest.
Your friends - my friends
You hid like a mother.
And so they fell to the ground,
To never with it does not stand up.
Not endless roads
We walked sadly dust.
And you looked after them sadly,
My native land!
For all that you come to know the life,
That was able to carry through the smoke.
Thee I low the custom
I bow bow to the earth.
Again, from the ashes of the Renaissance,
Thy rise field,
My destiny is not defeated,
My native land!