The travellers panicked.
  The woman wept, the man screamed: "Don't cry!"
  The dog who licked the whip screamed and stopped arrogant.
  Long nights are long.
  Men and women are fiercely debating, who should bear responsibility?
  They screamed, roared, and when they were pulling their swords, the night was thin, and the rays of light passed over the mountains and covered the sky.
  They suddenly calmed down.
  The sun stretched out and caressed the serene forehead of the bloody dead.
  The women burst into tears and the men licked their faces. Some people want to slip away, but their feet can't move, and the chain of guilt shackles him with innocent victims.
  They painfully asked each other: "Who is guiding us?"
  "The people we killed said for us." An old man from the East said.
  Everyone silently lowered their heads.
  "The suspicion made us abandon him." The old man continued, "Rage anger has killed us. Now love makes us accept him again. His death makes him rise in our lives. He is the victor of great death." ""
  They stood up and shouted in unison: "Victory is the victor of death!"