For the book of legends, for a gracious volume,
For a blessed pad in mind,
I pose a lesson for the humanity,
A little stress on the graveness to be a silent issue.
The armour is worn and fed by the knights of gashing blood,
Their loss is like a waste, but not at all for me,
Due to duty being as it is.
Helmets will keep away the sages from a servant of war,
For they can not read at all now, only can it fight and wait?
A group of lovers finds the laughing soldier a misery
For he has no books.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem