George Cosbuc - Decebalus To His Warriors Poem by Paul Abucean

This life is never any good
Unless thou live it as thou would!
So now, as tyrants scheme and stroke
To vilely bend us in their yoke,
When life already is a curse,
Would ye that it be worse?

Were we from godly seed to grow
We would be deathbound even so!
It makes no diff'rence if one dies
An early death or late demise,
Yet lions die in glory's reign
And dogs in wretched chain!

Thou vainly fight in forward rows
If whining thou confront thy foes!
A whiner is no better than
A dastardly disgraceful man,
So if thou mutter and complain,
Thy tears are spilled in vain!

Keep quiet? 'Tis what cravens do!
The dead, we know, are quiet too!
But if alive and straight thou art,
Let laughter overfill thy heart,
For he who dies and laughs doth well,
So laugh thy way to hell!

Should brooks themselves be bloodied red,
As long as death thou do not dread
Thy spirit never shall be trod!
To thee thyself shall seem a god,
As laughter in thy visage glows
And awes thy mighty foes.

So, they are Romans? ! Lovely name!
If God himself, Zalmoxis came
With all his gods to ask for land,
We would accept no such demand!
Nor is there reason they should try:
Do they not have their sky?

And now, my men, an arm and shield!
Today is fate to us revealed,
So he whose guts appear to lack
Is free to turn and wander back,
And he who thinks he might betray
Away from us, away!

Indeed have I nought left to say:
Ye all have sworn on shields today!
Ye all have prowess through and through
And gods in heaven to turn to!
But while the gods are far from here,
The enemy is near!

(1896)
(Translated by Paul Abucean)