Sol 5.6

  1. And banners flutter in the heart of its dust-cloud;

    you see the sleek steeds there, massed with armored warriors.

  2. Fierce—its venom swells at the tips of its tawny lances,

    as though serpents were breathing through them.

  3. It charms you like a beauty whose teeth laugh,

    and you recoil from it when it scowls like a ghoul.

  4. Spearheads wrench the foemen’s souls away,

    and you see them planted in their upper chests.

  5. How many a gaping thrust you would take for a mouth,

    with wide-open jaws among the warriors, spewing blood!

  6. We poured our blows upon it from sharp swords,

    and souls plunged into it, for it had taken the heart captive.

  7. We are the sons of the frontier, whose souls

    are males that wed death’s virgin maidens.

  8. From our resolve an Indian blade, keen in the stroke, is drawn;

    from our firestick the fire of valor is kindled.

Sol 5.6