Two lone combatants, in a clear blue sky,
Black Furies from a cold and ancient realm,
Bold Knight against bold Knight, prepare to die,
Head the fall, into the wings of Death's calm.
The dogfight rages against the noon sun,
Ebon aelerons all controlling pitch
And roll, neither giving to be outdone,
Until, Fate steps in, like a bile-filled witch,
And a talon slices the one purblind.
The Icarus-fall commences, to Earth
They drop, fluttering in a deadly grind,
Each aflame, burning for all they are worth!
The ground hits hard, then it prepares for red,
As the nobler beak strikes the other dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem