1. I have not seen the like of anvil that withstands
As the polished sword wears down from striking

2. Tomorrow it will give with two iron fingers
Eyes of droplets like uncovered gold

3. Whenever fire is brought near to it
Like glowing embers nimble and slight

4. Its light shines and dims its blade
As the strong prevails over the weak

5. Otherwise it would not cool to blackness
As if its suns suffered an eclipse