The tracks of swords are omniscient,
Difficult to behold, hard to distill,
Unarguably all-powerful like the created
Beings stirred by imagined spirits.
Conquests burden the buried plains,
Where the undead roam grunting and gravely
Hunting, housing the dead heart,
And the tongue of death so great.
My arch-devil befriends another demon,
Feeding the conquered swordsman,
Then breath entails and breath dispels,
One draws the sword to sheath the murder.
The argument of the release of prisoners
Commands a just roll of dice, the very chance
Of judgement was a lovely war.
The devils and demons of the husbands
Are the family of evil strings joined by delay
As the finding of men disgusted men who ruled.
Let sword be sword, badge be badge
And medal. The reality of awarding a man
Is like giving birth to his deeds.
The befriending of the standing alarmed ones
Befits the major course of history.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem