Shame Is No Comrade For The Poor,

He Lives Not Long Who Battles With The Immortals, Nor Do His Children Prattle About His Knees When He Has Come Back From Battle And The Dread Fray.

The Blade Itself Incites To Deeds Of Violence.

But He Whose Inborn Worth His Acts Commend, Of Gentle Soul, To Human Race A Friend.

Servants, When Their Lords No Longer Sway, Their Minds No More To Righteous Courses Bend.

Immortals Are Never Alien To One Another.