Protected by the chieftain who rages in battle, whose head
is resplendent with a sword wound, the town is in the wastelands
where a male quail with spots on his back, one who has been
trained to be a powerful fighter, waits for the right moment
and snatches some sweet white sesame seed, newly husked
and drying on a winnowing pan, then suddenly tries to kill
a field rat with lovely ears curving like the inner petals
of a konku flower in the summer, and the rat runs off to hide
among the tender, glittering ears of abundant millet …
. . . . . . . . . . fruit that is wolfed down. Go! Bard!