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The Invincible

O, Destiny
Sharpened in the millstones of pain,
Destroying my life like a grain.
 
But look
from hopes I'll mix flour
And I'll call people to feast on this bread.
 
For those hearts
to whom festive table is not set
I must preserve the herb of bitter sorrow.
 
And look
from hopes I mix flour
And I call people to feast on this bread.