There he was
on horseback, and
the saber's drawn,
lunar acuity
cut out a slice
of sunlight in mid-air.
He whirled it once
around his head, a halo, and
discharged it at a foe.
Charge forever, hero! Rear,
horse! The saber points
toward death, by means
of which he charged
into a statue in the square.
To you the glory, brother,
and to us the girls.
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