1. Brujerd, O guide of riders to Brujerd,
You see not life there soft and gentle lived.

2. I spurred my steed and made resolve to fare
Where swords as harvesting hooks gleam, sharpened, bared.

3. I rode there while the stars watched from on high,
As darkness blinked awake a sleepy eye.

4. And I roamed the waste, yearning as though I
Might find, adventuring, a life of ease.

5. No comrades had I but some lances keen,
A polished blade, a stripped spear smooth and clean,

6. For he who wisdom claims, unwise is he
If, armed with cutting sword, he scabbards it idly.

7. Yet when war lets her veil fall from her face,
A lioness, with flowers at her waist.