Maidan
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The spine tingles coldly,
The metallic, steely scrapes
Of sabers rattling so close,
And fear takes on all shapes.
So close that I cannot forget,
That rattles come from blades,
No more bullets fly in Kyiv,
On the burnt and black Maidan,
The barricades can now come down,
For the battle is now won.
Berkut no longer threatens,
One hundred dead, no more,
