The falcons were hovering in the sky
Howling shrilly now and then
The dust had settled
The victors were chasing the defeated
Far away to the horizon with racing speed
He covered in vain
The blood gushing out from the wound
The white feather of the arrow had beentainted red
Unsteadily he staggered
To the side of a lying enemy
Picked up the sword which he sharpened andpolished and
With which he wielded everyday to the envyof the spirits
At which he looked long and hard inadmiration
But now lied broken in the yellow sands
The dying enemy
The grudge and fear had shown in his eye
But disappeared in a moment
Why not save the fading consciousness
To reflect on the woe and joy in his lifetime
Falling to sit on a dune of send
He fondled with sympathy
(The war horse) which had carried himacross the ocean of sand
Risked the arrows and stones, racing in alldirections
And coming forward to ask after him now
The gushing had reduced into dripping
The sky was so blue
The white clouds were stretching in variousshapes
Could I still see them again tomorrow?
Everything would come to an end soon
The remains after the feast of the falcon
Would also be buried by the sands blew bythe wind
The dead as well as the living
Shares equally short memory
The history will only record
The names of the great