Classic Poem

His pure white garment now soiled with the filth of streets
strewn with pollen, though it had been washed every single day
by a washerwoman at a well dug in salty land, the lord
who wears a flowering garland, who had met the needs of many,
has no one to be of aid to him on the field of battle.
His handsome, reddened eyes blazing,
he is powerful enough to ward off weapons with his own sole shield!