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Montāžas Teksta
I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said-
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert....
Near them, on the sand, half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survived, stamped on these lifeless things.
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decayOf that colossal Wreck, boundless and bareThe lone and level sands stretch far away.”
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