I live to fight on the field
I come prepared to die
This sacred Katana I wield
Houses my soul with pride
To no man have I kneeled
I dare not to start now
I stand tall till the end
For no foe shall I bow
On no friend I depend
And no fear I allow
I strike quick with precision
No misses afforded
It is not a decision
Thought of loss is just sordid
Do it for honor, not recognition
I admire your strength
But you lack in techniques
Your power has no length
Nothing but blood thirsty freaks
Who's pride has been bent
You fight blind as a mouse
All goal and no glory
To me you're a grouse
One more kill for my story
Abandoned in whereabouts
Fight for the moment
While your armor protects
But I'm the one who was chosen
With a strike I'll inject
Fear in your face to be frozen
You fall to your knees
And now I clean my blade
Nature breaths a cool breeze
That our battle portrayed
Honor, pride, those were the keys.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem