Look keen and clear, on your first day,
Soon, I know, you'll wish to play,
So you can for a time,
But then my child of warrior line,
You will be taught to fight,
As is your race birthright,
Now go and hone, your ivory horns,
'Till they're sharper than the sharpest horns,
It is our way to plunder and kill,
To wish all others only ill,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem