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[ . . . ] And we get out of their way; we move in the opposite direction, toward where they’ve come from, toward Petroshi.And you see, they do not forbid it. And it may be that in Petroshi, where they…
After you, the killed of the Ukraine;After you, butcheredIn a mound in Gorodishche,The Dnieper town . . .KaddishNo! Heavenly tallow, don’t lick my gummy beards.Out of my mouth’s brown streams of…