Masques of war, painted stripes of savagery
regardless of one's rank or expertise
these are the fertile fields in which I till
in trades in which I barter what I kill.
Dear Lady, loquacious in thy speech,
all must know it is thee to whom I speak
how insufferable will be my prize
if I am not the glory in thine eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem