(Written through the eyes of a 6th century B. C. era Scythian warrior poet)
wind o wind o wind!
wind o wind whichs cleaves
the steppe in dire stagnation
eternal is the ride,
endless, the expanse
forever is the arrow
and the still air it slices
has no end to it either
below the ever-great sun-disc
we tremble
like hearts in lover-chests
half human, half stallion
hoof and hand, neigh and bow
into everlasting cold
echoing
aryan ancestry
from back centuries or even millenia
into ever-hinterlands
where slint-eyeds
and blue-eyeds
and brown-eyeds live
the steppe-nation spreads
like eagles soar
or how wolves migrate
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