Peregrine in the midst, glide down to crimson west.
Awesome standing against sky, promising hundred births of best.
And into the blue blood battle of deep and moving waves.
Then served eleven waves till to made them slaves.
None out of eleven shouting, haunted waves are at rest.
Ignobly, all the eleven can't refuse even with utmost request.
Still singing one more time, forgot about my potion.
And is a glory in strange storming winds over ocean.
No sailing boat, no sight of shore anymore.
Sans tranquility, ocean of eleven waves was not lonely before.
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