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I call to Segomo, granter of victory,
lord of the battlefield, master of shield and spear,
of strategies subtle and sage; with the soldier
you share craft and cunning, a firm will and a quick wit,
the wisdom of distance and the might of righteous wrath.
The noble beasts of land and sky are yours, Segomo,
the horse and the mule, strong of back and strong of spirit,
the eagle in its aerie; yours are the gentle hills,
thick-wooded and green, the sod upon the stone.
Yours is the land of cruel cold, of the wine,
honey-sweet, a spice to the tongue. Segomo
who knows a good life and a good death, I praise you.
Fieldstones 