Skinny limbs only saved us,
He grunted with disgust as his arm
Touched us, forever in this way.
He yelled, and a ripple of explosions
Were heard over the way.
The wild, untamed creatures denied
His authority, and they became flames.
The fire of honour was immense,
Just as fire is honourable after the laws.
These values are exceptionally overridden,
As far as death prevails.
He paused, and grinned, with the words
Of power, the exact words recorded by sages.
Those limbs that saved us were very thin,
But what fire roasts the skin?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem