At dawn;
They siege your abode at the west.
In the twinkle of an eye;
You see them at the east camping.
At twilight:
They are fighting through north.
Before mid;
Their encampment appears at the south.
Don't they have a home?
These wandering vagabonds,
Marching to and fro,
Here and there in
counts and "uncounts",
Conquering their sights post to post,
Home to home and town to town,
Militarily, like the hard fighting Barbarians.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem