test2<br><br><p align=“center”>So spoke the Wanderer, mindful of hardships and of cruel slaughters:</p><p align=“center”>Each dawn, I rise alone, mired in ancient sorrows. Wretched and deprived of my <br> native land. I have had my mind bound with fetter. For many years. I lay hidden in <br> the concealment of the earth, buried deep in stone. From there, I went, abject and <br> winter-grieving, over the surface of the waves. I sought the prison of my noble <br> kinsman. Sorrow is a cruel...