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Dig deep, and you will find my bones However absurd in this place of snow. I had had enough of loads and roads, And missed the grass and warmth of home. Weapons and coins from Carthage you'll find Buried by the avalanche. Absurd, absurd! Just like my story, like History itself: What to me were Rome or Carthage? Now my ivory, our species' pride Curved like a sickle moon, lies Splintered amongst run-of-the-stream pebbles: It was not made for piercing infantry But to uproot roots and delight our females. That, anyway, is the only thing we fight over, And wisely too, for we never ever shed blood. You want to know my story. ...