The horde rode to battle reciting their war cry
Hoping to win the day,
But a the alliance knows well today,
That, winners are those who are quiet,
And we held our bows high into the sky,
And fired a barrage of Arrows,
They hit a great many of those loud foes,
As they were to Arrogant to know,
They fell in to a trap we know that’s true,
All that was left is their corpse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem