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A light breeze
or a distant echo?
Here they come closer:
they come from the lands
of the East,
in the Western seas
sails are setting...
Dust curls
or morning fog?
Here they come:
they carry
another language,
mouthing lost voices
that are near.
Beyond the wall is the land,
within the ranks
is the destiny's search,
strong does the song rise,
behind my shield...
Antilabé!