If, these days, when our country in the season of spring has begun one of the bleakest autumns of its history, and its nature, instead of blossoms, flowers, and greenery, has been overtaken by the enemy’s blood and fire; when in every street and alley, instead of songs of joy, one hears the moans of the wounded trapped beneath the rubble, mingled with the heart-rending cries of mothers who have lost their children; when from its skies, instead of the gentle rain of spring, a barrage like acid rain is falling, and fire, debris, the roar of missiles, and drones…
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