Classic Poem

If you ask me, “Where is he?” the man of imposing actions
who carried out his duty, who made his advances across
the broad field of battle while the spears ran through him
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
because warriors, doing what they had to do, unleashed
their spears at his chest with its glittering garland where
the weapons hung as they reached him, his body is not anywhere
to be found and his life has been drained away.
His enemies, quieted, their enmity exhausted
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
except for his broken shield, which has lost its power
to protect but lies on the battlefield and has not been destroyed.
He has established his good name shining into the distances
and he is alive in the mouths of bards with their eloquent tongues.