May you hear the song
about a handsome-fearsome male,
about the girls he seduced,
about the fears he inspired.
May all the kind men love him,
-their land always protected
by a fascinatingly charming creature.
May all the thieves do hate him,
-half an elf, half a human,
as half an eagle on the lookout.
May you be hearing this harp's unpretentious notes,
the strings plucked with scarcely -huh- quick fingers;
men, believe me when I say that
quicker were his fingers down his long bow's string,
faster the mortal arrow which tore the quiet air
- hardly ever seen by the unlucky bastard
whose neck would burst into dark blood
once he'd cut in front of this deadly avenging archer,
who would leave him that fatal elvish arrow wound.
May you now be afraid, you villager wise men,
but don't,
'cause that agile dooming hands are only guided
by our good-hearted justice god.
May you now not be afraid, you beautiful young girls,
but do,
'cause that agile desiring hands are also guided
by our lust-hearted sexual god.
