1. I yearn for the clashing of swift swords,
And I aspire for the thrusting of slender spears,

2. And I long for cups of death when they are passed around,
And arrows of calamity circle around my head,

3. And I am thrilled when horses stumble in the battle,
By the specter of death and the bustling of processions,

4. And the striking and stabbing under the shade of a canopy,
Like the wings of nightfall from the clamor of marauding hands,

5. The heads of the people fly under its darkness,
And within it they fall like shooting stars,

6. And the white flashes within it from every side,
Like the flashing of lightning in the darkness of the gloaming,

7. By your life, glory and pride and supremacy,
And attaining wishes and rising in ranks,

8. Are for those who face its heroes and elite,
With persevering hearts at the striking of swords,

9. And build with the edge of the sword a towering glory,
In the lofty orbit above the stars,

10. And whoever does not water his spear with the blood of foes,
When the reddish-black of spears clash with the swift swords,

11. And give the slender spear its right in battle,
And prove with the edge of the sword the breadth of shoulders,

12. Will live as the disgraced lives in anguish,
And if he dies no elegy will be sung by the wailing women,

13. The merits of resolve are not to be sold to the weak,
And the secrets of wisdom are not to be disclosed to the critic,

14. With them I have always faced every calamity,
My kohl is naught but the dust of battalions,

15. When lightning deceives the critic with false flashes,
The flash of my sword is truthful and no liar,