Let the Tiger roar, while his strength
Carries him blithely through the course;
Let the maiden muse in Sabine moonlight
While her radiance surmounts the moon.
Age and decline are seven hills away
And of course will be faced in time
But maidens and beasts filled with chi
Must live today or never will they shine.
The challenge is met, acclaims will rise
But no voice is needed to confirm
That these gifts of strength and beauty
Are used to the fullness of their nature.
Later, when the robes are drawn and
Gazelles are passed for slower fare,
Bardic memories of these golden dreams
Will provide final triumph: it was done!
