From the steppe, there came language, But now our noble minds do languish, And few remember noble words, Poetry spread by bronze swords. Divinity and Heaven, God and Master, Noble Lord of Kin, O Tribal Father -- Heed the need of your Gens, Assist the best of the Clans. A man, a woman, lovers entwined, A child, a family, legacy enshrined, This we call the foundation, The beginning of a nation.
the last stanza shines