Aiwefäst

An mortis, un meztus ont in Cner, ta cetia de inter, ohn Aiwefäst
(An morrtis, un mestus ont in ner, ta setiya de inter, on Eye-weh-fest) 

In the hour of the prelude of times, be the calling
Of the mighty husbandman, behold, he is able to proctect himself
From all lies. This I tell you according to the truth, the west
Is my bed, I came only from the opposite, for, lo, is nothing always
The best. I speak not in order to give the Whiners the opportunity
To please, for not a day shall pass when they shall call me to cease.

O the knowledge of philosophers and Roman governors
Allure me, with the scent of Intelligent´s fragrant cologne
O do look behold, I am to seek pride in possessing a Roman´s
Tone. Alas is the seed of my eyes come, and is in front of all
Standing with a mighty Stand, O such glory that one´s image
Should not be dum.

He who passes by me and scorns me to be still and desire
Affection in that which I know is ill, is nothing more but someone
Who believes in illness who bears with him the burden of life's
Drill. O the blood that keeps me alive, O is the blood of one
Who inherit such history, yea, shall I always cry: Viva!
Behold is my fate faster than that of a cheetah.