Behold him! On the dewy ground, dark and cold,
Like a strange marvel or hero of the night.
Will anyone tell me what he is like?
I saw him singing at his work,
On this dew that thaws like a beautiful chemical,
From the battles long ago.
I saw his face again on an occasion to trust
And no bird did ever chant such miraculous notes.
He is marvellous in his wishes,
And controls himself when in a fit of anger.
The third day of his war became the last,
And to call him an honourable hero
Was fit for the country and nation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem