Marked from his youth the conqueror
showed signs of valor's wreath
when but a child he tamed a horse
and donned a prince's sheath
He grew and soon was crowned a king
although the price was great
in lost affections and of lives
that perished at his gate
No army and no horde of men
withstood his forces thrust
though oft outnumbered plodded on
and ground them into dust
He traveled through the desert sands
to find his heritage
and found he was the flowering
of ancient vernissage
His trusty stallion in the heat
of battle one day fell
his spirit failed to quench the pain
and quiet death's harsh knell
But as with many conquerors
with kingdoms far and wide
the end was swift as fever raged
in sickbed while men cried
There is a time to win and soar
with laurel wreaths and gold
to be remembered in old books
in songs and stories told
There comes a time and none knows when
bright armor falls from loins
when swords and stallions are no use
nor images on coins
Not many have been meant to star
in legends known by all
yet everyone will hear the knock
when fate drops in to call
Marked from his youth the conqueror
showed signs of valor's wreath
when but a child he tamed a horse
and donned a prince's sheath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem