The wanderer

A man cannot be wise until he has endured the winters of his life.A wise man must be patient.Not easy to anger,nor loose of speach,niether rash nor unreliable.He should not lack courage,nor be greedy.He should never boast actions before he can achieve them.He must hold back his promises until he has thought them through and has no doubt.A wise man must contemplate destruction.For now ancient walls are decaying,ravaged by wind and frost.Grand buildings,the work of giants,stand deserted,the wine halls crumble
All the proud lords and thier warriors lie dead.So he who thinks deep about destruction cannot fail to ask,where now is the war horse?Where is the warrior clad in mail?Where now is the glory of my lord?These days are long gone.All that remains is a monument carved with serpents,where once warriors were laid down by a hail of ash spears,now a storm of sleet batters thier stone.Winter howls and the hardships of life fills men.Wealth is fleeting,comrades are fleeting,man is transient.