The sad sighs of the immortal guard, the snow ploughs their bloody retreat, stormily and swift, revolutions path slowly entombed, from thunder and blade the glorious eagle fades slowly, the last cavalry horn signals once more, steady they cry the last songs, as the volga erupts its solemn way, horses surveyors of the destiny they tremble on, the ferocious last kick, the lancers rage in fury and ice, adieu to the marshals, as winters sun commands, the epic embrace of fate, alas to the son of Corsica, Alexander's shadow is but consumed, by legends eternal grace, to turn and stare once more, at the doors of Heavens gate.
