This day is a day not so far away - a day with swords and arrows.
But this day is a particular day - a day with wars and battles.
The sky is dry and arid, and the high towers cover the sun.
The towers of a heavenly castle, at which the battle has just begun.
The castle gates are tightly closed, and the armies close in four sides.
The armies of dark armor with evil and hatred in their eyes.
The castle is only guarded by a few brave mounted knights.
But in a few seconds, the towers are rounded with holy lights.
The lights shine bright and fill the towers with radiant rays of delight.
The lights are those of the holy archers - their arrows blessed with might.
The archers march up the towers, exposed to the parched atmosphere.
They march with erect posture, with gold bows and no fear.
The armies on the desert soil clash, but evil is a guile.
Evil shrouds the fight and the mounted knights' hearts beat a mile.
The heavenly archers fill the towers with their majestic bows.
They aim upwards, stretch the string, and release in rhythmic rows.
The arrows fly to search for a sign at the skirmish down below.
They are like hungry hawks about to swoop at the hazy prey down low.
They ride the dry, humid wind as they increase their altitude,
Then they plummet to the earth as if they died and lost their mood.
All of the golden-tipped arrows suddenly drop like wingless flies,
Greedily taking with them the helpless souls of unwatchful eyes.
The evil souls of the desert lands fall to their perilous fate,
And the lands then become green, and the clouds return to mate.
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