English
To the Just King
You are that just king who brought to the world
such order and wise governance over its affairs.
So that if even a gazelle should go missing from the forest,
your strong-fisted justice bares the lion's claw to find it.
Wherever the cloud of your generosity scatters its drops,
the sea's begging palm swells into waves from a single pool.
Perhaps the sea has gone mad from the spray of your giving hand,
for with every breath the morning breeze binds its waves in chains.
On the day of battle, when you ride out for combat,
lightning flashes in your hand and dancing flames burn below.
At times you strike the ranks alone like an arrow,
at times you fall upon the enemy bare like a sword.
No life can escape your hand,
and no arrow can spring free from your grip.
A shield before your blade is like grass before lightning,
a coat of mail against your blow is like the crackle of fire.
Blessings on that swift, deer-paced steed of yours,
for the world has never seen its like or equal.
Bright-browed like reason, broad-chested like hope,
roaming the plains like desire, fierce of pace like greed.
On the day of battle your enemy's soul cannot keep up with its turning,
even if it flies fast as a feathered arrow.
On the field of war your enemy never thirsts for combat with you,
except in the moment he grows weary of his own life.