Answer:
I turn around once. What is out will not get in. I turn around again. What is in will not get out.
The sharp slim blade, that cuts the wind.
It is a sound of empty, speak and it'll talk back plenty. But all the more you yack, you'll get the same words back.
Goes over all the hills and hollows. Bites hard, but never swallows.
What can bring back the dead. Make us cry, make us laugh, make us young. Born in an instant yet lasts a life time?
What never gets any wetter no matter how hard it rains?