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| | Poetry of Kornelijus Platelis |
 | | And while It has not set among us, while blood Does not gush onto the bleached linen shirt, While the heavy odor of souls, The cry of victory and the moans of the dying Have not yet darkened the sun, Let's watch How it rises. |
 | | Lord, Here I am, still alive, but on my way Out of your beautiful world, on the hard road to heaven, Riding in front of your divine spear, Repeating the dread song of victory and death. |
 | | Turn us into your lightning, into the spirit of vengeance, The whirlwind of sacred fury, And may each of our sighs be a fl gust of death! |
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