Instructions To Horsemen, Krakow, Poland, 1241 Poem by Peter Bakowski

Your journey will be long,

dangers certain.

From clouds snakes will fall.

These can be killed only

by those amongst you

who have eaten wolf.



Don’t drink from pond or stream

in which black reeds grow.

One mouthful will turn you to stone.

Sleep with an eagle feather

clasped in your fist.

This keeps away lightning.



Find my son,

carried off by Tartars.

He has a crescent-shaped scar

on his left cheek.

By this you will know him.

One hundred fine horses

for his safe return.



I’m too old to ride with you.

Be my eyes,

vigilant in every village and forest.

Put an end to my nightmares

in which two Tartars

whip my blindfolded son

towards the edge of a cliff.

(from Beneath Our Armour)