Classic Poem

In his hand he holds a spear. On his legs he wears war anklets.
On his body there is sweat. On his neck is a fresh wound.
Shining on the curls of his black hair are needlelike leaves
from the height of a young palmyra palm and he wears them entwined
with huge blossoms of vetci and with flowers of the venkai tree.
His enemies flee the sight of them! It is as if he were
some mighty elephant that has just come back from battle
with a tiger, so that the rage he has felt has not yet
left him. Ah! For those who aroused his anger,
there was no escape! The eyes that saw
his enemies still are crimsoned even though they see his small son!