Classic Poem

Like a long line of high-flying herons
roused and disturbed
by the raincloud,

your armies move

murderous bull-elephants ,
rows of shields,
splendor
of white flags waving
on chariots,

and the parade
is a great pleasure
to onlookers.

But as it overruns
and destroys enemy lands
to bring back a booty of ornaments,

it spells evil
to men in the camps
of those kings

who cross you
and clash
with your rage.