From Lesya Ukrainka:

Why are my words not like steel brightly flashing
Out in the field where two armies are clashing?
Why not a sabre whose pitiless blows
Cut off the heads of our bitterest foes ?

You dagger-words, that I tempered and tested,
Gladly I’ll draw from my breast where you rested,
But it is my heart to the purpose applying,
I’ll shape a weapon with sparks from it flying

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