While I was roaming the wide world
I came upon nations in graves:
The mighty and the meek lay there
Among them awe-inspiring braves.
Some were old men, some young heroes:
Viziers, teachers-everyone goes;
Their days now caught in the night’s throes,
Here they lie with death’s other slaves.
The path they took was always straight;
Pen in hand, they knew how to write;
Their tongues, like nightingales, sang right;
Buried they lie-sages and braves.
Mighty and low, everyone cried
When these heroic leaders died;
A broken bow at each graveside
Gallant men fell like stray arrows.
Their horses unfurled a dust cloud,
Drummers marched by them, beating loud,
Their might had done land and sea proud;
Noble lords now lie in death’s caves