1. O sword of God's religion, the enemy is not pleased
If only your sword was as just as your justice

2. No sooner did you prepare them a feast in battle
Than the best of them peered out at you

3. So the meadow is spattered with the blossoms of stars
And the water takes shape from the purest springs

4. The plain is a garment speckled with eagles
And the earth a carpet strewn with steeds

5. The eagles swoop down upon each other and meet
Among the valiant horsemen, glorious and majestic

6. And the lines of your horses—their only adornment
Is the red of bloodstains patterned upon them