Knowing his life will end, still he fights
The way of the samurai is death, elegant
Irrespective of pain, sorrow, loss of blood
Courage, firm resistance, are forms of spite
With death a result, his family is desolate
But it should be understood, by the witness
That death is a journey, death is not the end
The truth is, all that we know about death
Is that it's a change of circumstance
Not necessarily fear, nor sorrow nor regret
No one knows what lays beyond
Perfection controls what is left to chance
By determined fight, and fierce response
Samurai give battle like ballerinas dance
With exquisite efficacy and faith in arms
Spending hours in practice and reflection
Making death wearied, stealing its prize
The samurai who will die, joyously fights
Leaves death with no victim, only a body
By this denial a samurai forces death to lie
Forcing it to be pleased by taking
One who was ready to die
"The heart of a virtuous person has settled down and he does not rush about at things. A person of little merit is not at peace but walks about making trouble and is in conflict with all." Yamamoto Tsunetomo
