Over their shoulders they pulled the load,
Fresh people have fresh news of the time;
They resist the temptations, their illness
Is spear-like for the moments of distress.
I have a head and heart produced by the lords,
With iron scales my armour resides in heaven now.
Across the narrow chamber a stinging arrow
Makes a travelling career, fully informing.
They saw the gaunt faces as the rays of fire
Broke the banners and the sinners of fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem