Classic Poem

We used to see garments of nocci flowers, dark bunches grown
on fields which never knew of a lack of water and their colors
worn across the broad and lovely mounds of love of women
with filigreed ornaments would fill one's eyes! But now
we see a kite taking flight after it has snatched up
a torn garland of nocci flowers all changed and covered
with a fearful smear of blood
because it had been worn by that man whose goal was courage.