We should be dead
Порох – nay, thou art not dead, ukraine, see, the glorys born again, and the skies, o brethren, smile once more! as in springtime melts the snow so shall melt away the foe, and we shall be masters of our homes. soul and body, yea, our all offer we at freedoms call— we, whose sires were mighty cossack braves.5
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