I am the challenger of the night and all it contains,
It darkens the sword on your side, but I unsheathe;
To fight is to injure, and to ride is to bruise the shoulder,
My horse is me, I am my horse, for it pleases me,
As I please it, with me as a burden on the back.
The back is my scavenger, my front is a danger,
The riding is of a passenger in the mists and fog.
I am endangered by the speed of news and sport,
My plunging is my sinful action, my jeopardy,
For it pleases me as the pains are the custom.
The larger we amass our armies, the more a speed
Of the empire, and then merging the sounds
Carries a sword, the darkening clouds rain down
With thunder and lightning, bolts of electricity
Forsaking us with might and light, sound and ground.
My horse is an open friend, a galley of the land,
I am the sailor of the few who reign supreme,
As the mast of this riding beast is so superb
That martyrdom is less beauteous, and watching
Is the key to success as we fly from zone to zone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem