| BALLAD OF FIGHTING 1 Alongside of night prayers by flickering candles, Among trophies of war and among peaceful camps, There lived bookish kids, unaware of battles, Giving way to despair out of trifling mishaps. Flocked in gangs, always vexed with the status in life, Not till scrapes but till deadly insults did we fight. Nonetheless, mothers patched up our garments on time, Whereas we swallowed books, getting drunk on the line. 2 Sweaty forelocks adhered to perspiring brows, Guts enjoyed sinking feeling from beautiful words, Our heads would wheel round from the smell of a row, Emanating from pages of old, yellowed scrolls. And, unversed in warfare, to conceive did we try, Still mistaking a howl for a bellicose cry, The conundrum of order, the use of confines, Fighting chariots clank and the gist of a fight. 3 While in cauldrons of slaughters and riots of yore, There's a great deal of food for our hungry young brains. Roles of Judases, cowards, pretenders, informers We intended for foes in our childish war games, Whereas, quick in a chase on a villain's hot trail, Pledging ardor in love for most beautiful dames, Showing care for our kin and appeasing our friends, Roles of positive heroes we meant for ourselves. 4 In a dreamland for keeps, you cannot hide away. Age of pranks is so short, there's pain all around. Do your best to unclench lifeless palms of the dead, Taking over their steel from fight-weary arms. Now assay, having wielded an as yet heated sword, Having put ... |
