57 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
57 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
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The Ballad of the banner
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Morning, bright as a splint.
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Terrible. Long. Ratna.
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Rifle Regiment was defeated.
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Our. In this unequal battle.
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How many guys were killed
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In that fight, I do not know.
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Wither - without roots -
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Regimental colors.
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Clouds were sad
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Above the hushed battle.
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And then from their native land
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He stood a soldier who was killed.
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He paused. I grieve.
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And - to spite burns -
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His bandaged chest
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He crimson silk.
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And fed to the east,
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Ancestral home raving,
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On the ground as big as a sigh.
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Slowly, as time.
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Pauls empty birch.
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It was forest gully.
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He considered himself a regiment
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Surrounded by the enemy!
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From it he went out
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Menacing and tired.
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Myself and the commander,
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And the chief of staff.
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He walked for a long time is not easy.
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It was up to his waist in rosah,
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Based on the shaft,
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as a prophetic staff.
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He was waiting for his hour,
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Revenge on the enemy blood.
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He slept in the field, and his
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The Banner was warm ...
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It rained. Spinning haze.
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I gasped the storm.
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Man did not take a bullet -
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It flattens the bullet!
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Well, if I took
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Frantic vain -
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Blood was undetectable,
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Red on red ...
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