"Say, why don't you love me? Why do you need him? That fake aristocrat! What happened to you, Hungary? How did they tame you so much? He really winded you around his finger.. You don't come with me to ride horses anymore. I can't see the wind ruffling your hair and the burning flame in your eyes. Now you're only using the broom. You threw your sword away long ago. Yet it's sounds something like this: The sword shines brighter than the chain. Can't you feel those chains? He didn't chain your neck or hands, but your heart, your lust for battle, and your liberty with it. You can't deny that I'm right. Would you come to ride horses and fight by my side? Or course you would, but you cannot because you're a slave. A slave of a pathetic spectacled loser. I don't want to see this! I don't want you to think that you're miserable. I want you to know that you're not like this. You're Hungary. Your people born to be horseman and warriors. Nobody can give you orders. You're a hot-headed, but pretty girl whose frying pan can cause mortal wounds to your enemies. And there's nobody who can forget the memory of your look. Your smile, the sparks in your eyes. Once it engraves itself into my mind it never escapes from there, in fact it stays there for eternity. I cannot, and I do not want to forget you. I want to be only with you. I don't want to share my world and my horses with anybody else! I love you Hungary!"