A Poem of Symbols

¶ / Анотхер уселесс гаме, ох бог,
¶ / ...
¶ / Херита Хилн саыс то енйоы.

In the depths of a shivering flame,
A maddened eye watchfully came,
Balefully, did it tame,
Eight characters, so simple in name.

The first - chosen, a liminal plane,
Probably less war-hardy than John McCain,
Mechanical; not in most respects mundane,
Ve eq I make up its chain.

The second, conspicuous, simply cut,
The pattering of rain, though first shut,
It's glyph ДИАПУТХИЛ-ЛВИ, you absolute nut.

The third, likely more obscure,
Selection thirteen one-oh-four, pure,
ФАРСУТХИЛ-ВЕР Х ХАН, for sure.

Fourth, second greatest verb-starter you know,
Everywhere, as much is to show,
It's what begins Rome's "truth," said the crow.

Fifth; it terminates you,
Absurd may it be, it's a shortening of tu,
It's what starts the latter-name of a show of the Crew.

Sixth, siol, ХЕХ, whatever it is, ring,
It's what ends the beginning of a greeting,
Also, what Cosgog said at the start of the final meeting.

Seven and eight, pseudo-name to a malformed Psi,
Whatever it is, the addiction needs to be stopped in cursed rye,
Otherwise, tse and pi.

#^^^^∨^^