Joan of Arc (№ 105927)

To come up abundantly millet and wheat
So our neighbor came up.
The husband was enriched by the war,
To bankrupt our neighbor twice.
She didn't cheat on Thursday,
A neighbor had grown horns.
To the survivors of the soul ascended,
So our neighbor can't be saved.
To the righteous and brave
Not grieving,
Drove to Paradise dear white
Only I.