Cold and wet,
They all fall hard.
Loud and melodic,
Like the instrument's bard.
Thin and piercing,
It’s a silvery sheet,
Pounding and whizzing,
They're hard to beat.
Rough and impulsive,
No easy way out.
The warriors are coming,
They'll win without a doubt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem