Граф Орлов
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The enemy staggered, the enemy cried out. Ivain struck with his sword so hard That the sword seemed to pierce his brain like dough. His forehead was split, helmet and all. His brains are on the armor, like dirt.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers