At the ancient grave of Galich by Tiras River's flow, A black jackdaw perched on the throne of coronation stone, Her haunting cry resounds, of Celtic gods long gone, In mourning for heroes who journeyed to the far Western dawn. Whispers of hope intertwined, in her sorrowful call, For mighty Dagda's triumphant return, breaking enslavement's thrall, To the land where foremother Dana once held sway, Banishing the dark Kremlins, restoring light's way. Black feathers gleam in moonlit night, Echoes of battles, of champions' might, Cry of the jackdaw, a metal hymn, Tales of gods and heroes grown dim. In her call, the ancient spirits converge, Metallic clang of hope and urge, For the black jackdaw's cry holds power untold, Of an age reborn, of bravery bold.
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