They who behold you stare; They peer at you closely: “Is this the man Who shook the earth, Who made realms tremble, Who made the world like a waste And wrecked its towns, Who never released his prisoners to their homes?” All the kings of nations Were laid, every one, in honor Each in his tomb; While you were left lying unburied, Like loathsome carrion, Like a trampled corpse In the clothing of slain gashed by the sword Who sink to the very stones of the Pit.
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