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VIOLET ON THE MOUNTAIN<br />
Of what was a handsome young warrior.<br />
And my sisters — tell them, for my sake<br />
They should cut off their braids,<br />
And not go about with their friends<br />
While mourning for their dead brother.”<br />
The mother wanders about<br />
Keening and shedding tears:<br />
“My son had met with a leopard,<br />
A fearsome, accursed beast.<br />
He with sword, it with claws,<br />
Darkened the day for each other.<br />
The leopard was surely no coward,<br />
Nor did he treat my son mildly,<br />
They met, and each slew the other,<br />
Neither brought shame on himself.”<br />
Weeping, she dressed her son’s wounds,<br />
Torn by the leopard’s claws.<br />
“Son, you’re not dead, only sleeping,<br />
Worn out from your heavy labors;<br />
This, your chain-mail shirt,<br />
How could the beast tear it open?<br />
You were truly his equal,<br />
You wore down your sword in battle.<br />
You met him, one man, alone,<br />
There was none else to save you.<br />
Your foe gave you no time,<br />
Nor did you let him prepare.<br />
The shield you held in your hand<br />
No longer served to protect you,<br />
Nor could the leopard’s claws stave off<br />
The sword that hacked at his bones.<br />
No more will I weep over you,<br />
You are not one to be wept for.<br />
In war, in the front ranks of battle,<br />
You never brought shame on yourself.<br />
Indeed I have raised a son<br />
Fit to do battle with leopards.<br />
Be at peace, with the sign of the cross<br />
That marks the door to the grave.”<br />
The leopard and also her son<br />
Appeared to her as she slept.<br />
Sometimes the animal was ripping<br />
The armor worn by her son,<br />
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