The forge burns hot when stoked up high
Fumes and flames reaching the sky
For armoured mail and forged steel
Hammers upon anvils sing a ringing peal.
Blades are made to create a deadly whistling song
Arrows swift and spear blades strong.
Helmets and armoured mail
Light as a feather yet stronger than a dragon's tail.
The forge burns bright into the night
To create weapons which with warriors fight
The flames flicker and roars and higher the flames soar
Likely to be seen from distant lands
From lush forest and hills to the bleak desert sands
The forge shines brightly throughout the day
Letting up plumes of fire and smoke grey
The hammers and tongs tell tales and songs
About days of old when the world was young
And the knowledge of the forge was yet to be sung
The forge smoke burns high unto the sky
Like funeral wreaths when brave men die.
Listen carefully and you will see
The song of the forge and why you are free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem