Your empire is nothing but a big sword
With peasants blood you do sharpen each day
Maybe powerful and made from great ore
Yet constantly oxidising away
Your enemies weapons have grown bigger
Through arrogance you have remained the same
Their might has now grown to become super
While you can barely keep up with the game
You have wallowed in self aggrandisement
And now your star does certainly wane
Punished you will be for your ignorance
A new ruling class will embrace your fame
You rejected new technology
For that you will suffer eternally
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem