雷蒙践敌之铭刻玄刃
刃（曾乃）弧镰之流(Gladius Hispaniensis)，喜乐之夺者，噫,生命掌控者。
其旋转黑紫之披风，乃其命运黑暗所逆搔之皮纸变故。
在其揭示世间，显敌之破剑峰迹于众。
雷蒙乃战神；其目睹敌之遗志于足下。
雷蒙乃不败之神；立于敌上不显痛楚。
雷蒙乃无需证己之神，因其将所有失败置于足下。
雷蒙烏木臂高声笑曰：“战争已止！”
其宣告，笑邀众人观其无情之壮举。
“时已终结！”
对立之兵将与领袖，疑惑地接近黑臂雷蒙。
跪拜于敬畏中，因见确无杀器残留，
无爛星辰之業，亦无烟尘之報，
六華缀于烏臂落敌墜刃之虛，
缠绕六败之刃血中，彼自承命。
雷蒙践敌之铭刻玄刃，
（曾乃）弧镰之流，喜乐之夺者，生命掌控者。
其旋转黑紫之披风，乃同為刻之意外皮纸，
（昔日他乃刹那光華之華，
今為沉鬱黑命之神）
“無需再有英雄與兵戎之戲；(皆)安息矣！”
其乘黑豹如火花入虚空。
红花，红花，红花，令众狂乱；
原野中绽放六万红花：
“嘿！或我知此符号，”一人言，
“美丽而浪漫，然血流成河令人哀伤。”
一未婚新寡之高精。
“此乃圣兆！请表尊重！乃三界奇迹！”
一未谙枪术与重甲者言。
“确实！确实！此乃不朽之奇迹。”
一鄙王临近六朵神踏之红花，
慎拾一朵避其刺，细细拆解：
“我城中美妻必会思我，
若于关卡受伤延归，必怒。
此花定能使其笑忘忧。此花美妙，抵尽生遗憾。”
见此情景，众人纷纷效仿。一、二、三、四……
若所竊花数不足，分瓣而取……
雷蒙笑而歸返至以太界,雖有微恙，
因扭踝且磕腿於山腳處，
寒露沾濕其披風，懸於星辰
拖至燃天太界，倒挂如不降之云。
然至天域中途，漸感疲倦
置于宇宙虚空，卧于夜之不明厚处。
无古巨影遮其昏眸。
噫，哀疲憊之雷蒙，乃六瓣烏木臂之主
晦暗苦地之削刻玄刃
明日天際之弧刀流，噫，及昨日喜樂之奪者，噫，與永恆生命之掌控者，
尚未知之尚未知之刃光焰，於高貴光輝中。
Reymon tramps upon his foe's engraved ebony-shaver of earth
(which was) flow of scythe-falcata*, the taker of joy, O life-handler
he twirled round his dusky purple mantle, of vellum-accidents scrapped oppositely by the same (black destinies)
and in his earthly unveiling, showing his foe's broken sword-ridge for all to see
Reymon is a warrior god; he gazes at the last will of his foe being tramped below him
Reymon is a unfallen god; he stands upon his foe without admitting pain
Reymon is a god needless of proof of strength, for he places all gotten defeats right under his feet
Reymon Ebonarm chuckles aloud, "the conflicts are ceased!"
he announced; inviting all the expectant to see his feat without mercy
"the time is ended!"
The opposed soldiers and leaders of soldiers in field,
approached Reymon of the Ebonarm in doubt
and then knelt in fear, for they saw in deed there were no pieces of instrumental murder
left behind, there were no chunks of bright, shattered stars in due
paid by whiffs of their smoking dust, instead
six red flowers adorned the hollow where the blade of ebonarm's foe fell,
gripped in six defeats of twined razors and blood, he enjoined himself
Reymon tramps upon the engraved ebony-shaver of earth
(which is) flow of scythe-falcata, the taker of joy, life-handler
he whirled round his dusky purple mantle, of accidental vellum carved through the same
(for he was the fair bloom scintilla,
now moping god of black destinies)
"No More Heroes and games of soldiers; leave the rest in peace!"
He went away on his black panther like a spark into void.
Red Flowers, Red Flowers, Red Flowers, driving them mad;
shown abloom in field those six myarids of red flowers:
"Hey! perhaps I know this sign," a Son of Men uttered,
"How lovely and romantic, but how sad for all the blood thats been shed,"
an unwed but recently windowed Altmer
"This is a holy sign! please show some respect! a work of aurbic wonder it is!"
from someone who apparently lacked education in spear-craft and the heavy defense.
"true! all true! this is an immortal wonder" a petty King of Nibenay approaches where six god-trampled red flowers lay,
picking up one while minding the thorns, he has it carefully unmade:
"my lovely wife in my home castle would be sure to miss me,
and turn angry if I got delayed returning with injuries at toll gates,
this can surely make her laugh and forget. a wonderful flower t'is surely against all life's regrets"
Seeing all this unfolding, others joyfully followed suit. one, two, three, four...
when fixed number of bloooms were not enough
they split the stolen petals to steal more...
Reymon chuckled on his way back to aetherius though with slight discomfort,
for he has twisted his ankle and bruised his shin, near the footfall of hills whence he returned.
waterlogged his mantle by cold dews hanged on stars,
so he dragged it to his home of burning heaven, facing upwards upside down like an unraining cloud.
but midway through heaven's field he became really tired,
and laid it down right there upon cosmic void, and slept upon the indeterminate thicknesses of night.
without any ancient, gigantic shadows obstructing his already dim sight.
O weary Reymon, he was, Lord of the six-petalled Ebonarm.
the obscure ebony-shaver of bitter earth,
and flow of scythe-falcata in tomorrow's heaven, O and the taker of yesterday's joy, O and the constant life-handler
the unknown left-unknown blade-scintilla of the high and glorious
*scythe-falcata: Gladius Hispaniensis
刃（曾乃）弧镰之流(Gladius Hispaniensis)，喜乐之夺者，噫,生命掌控者。
其旋转黑紫之披风，乃其命运黑暗所逆搔之皮纸变故。
在其揭示世间，显敌之破剑峰迹于众。
雷蒙乃战神；其目睹敌之遗志于足下。
雷蒙乃不败之神；立于敌上不显痛楚。
雷蒙乃无需证己之神，因其将所有失败置于足下。
雷蒙烏木臂高声笑曰：“战争已止！”
其宣告，笑邀众人观其无情之壮举。
“时已终结！”
对立之兵将与领袖，疑惑地接近黑臂雷蒙。
跪拜于敬畏中，因见确无杀器残留，
无爛星辰之業，亦无烟尘之報，
六華缀于烏臂落敌墜刃之虛，
缠绕六败之刃血中，彼自承命。
雷蒙践敌之铭刻玄刃，
（曾乃）弧镰之流，喜乐之夺者，生命掌控者。
其旋转黑紫之披风，乃同為刻之意外皮纸，
（昔日他乃刹那光華之華，
今為沉鬱黑命之神）
“無需再有英雄與兵戎之戲；(皆)安息矣！”
其乘黑豹如火花入虚空。
红花，红花，红花，令众狂乱；
原野中绽放六万红花：
“嘿！或我知此符号，”一人言，
“美丽而浪漫，然血流成河令人哀伤。”
一未婚新寡之高精。
“此乃圣兆！请表尊重！乃三界奇迹！”
一未谙枪术与重甲者言。
“确实！确实！此乃不朽之奇迹。”
一鄙王临近六朵神踏之红花，
慎拾一朵避其刺，细细拆解：
“我城中美妻必会思我，
若于关卡受伤延归，必怒。
此花定能使其笑忘忧。此花美妙，抵尽生遗憾。”
见此情景，众人纷纷效仿。一、二、三、四……
若所竊花数不足，分瓣而取……
雷蒙笑而歸返至以太界,雖有微恙，
因扭踝且磕腿於山腳處，
寒露沾濕其披風，懸於星辰
拖至燃天太界，倒挂如不降之云。
然至天域中途，漸感疲倦
置于宇宙虚空，卧于夜之不明厚处。
无古巨影遮其昏眸。
噫，哀疲憊之雷蒙，乃六瓣烏木臂之主
晦暗苦地之削刻玄刃
明日天際之弧刀流，噫，及昨日喜樂之奪者，噫，與永恆生命之掌控者，
尚未知之尚未知之刃光焰，於高貴光輝中。
Reymon tramps upon his foe's engraved ebony-shaver of earth
(which was) flow of scythe-falcata*, the taker of joy, O life-handler
he twirled round his dusky purple mantle, of vellum-accidents scrapped oppositely by the same (black destinies)
and in his earthly unveiling, showing his foe's broken sword-ridge for all to see
Reymon is a warrior god; he gazes at the last will of his foe being tramped below him
Reymon is a unfallen god; he stands upon his foe without admitting pain
Reymon is a god needless of proof of strength, for he places all gotten defeats right under his feet
Reymon Ebonarm chuckles aloud, "the conflicts are ceased!"
he announced; inviting all the expectant to see his feat without mercy
"the time is ended!"
The opposed soldiers and leaders of soldiers in field,
approached Reymon of the Ebonarm in doubt
and then knelt in fear, for they saw in deed there were no pieces of instrumental murder
left behind, there were no chunks of bright, shattered stars in due
paid by whiffs of their smoking dust, instead
six red flowers adorned the hollow where the blade of ebonarm's foe fell,
gripped in six defeats of twined razors and blood, he enjoined himself
Reymon tramps upon the engraved ebony-shaver of earth
(which is) flow of scythe-falcata, the taker of joy, life-handler
he whirled round his dusky purple mantle, of accidental vellum carved through the same
(for he was the fair bloom scintilla,
now moping god of black destinies)
"No More Heroes and games of soldiers; leave the rest in peace!"
He went away on his black panther like a spark into void.
Red Flowers, Red Flowers, Red Flowers, driving them mad;
shown abloom in field those six myarids of red flowers:
"Hey! perhaps I know this sign," a Son of Men uttered,
"How lovely and romantic, but how sad for all the blood thats been shed,"
an unwed but recently windowed Altmer
"This is a holy sign! please show some respect! a work of aurbic wonder it is!"
from someone who apparently lacked education in spear-craft and the heavy defense.
"true! all true! this is an immortal wonder" a petty King of Nibenay approaches where six god-trampled red flowers lay,
picking up one while minding the thorns, he has it carefully unmade:
"my lovely wife in my home castle would be sure to miss me,
and turn angry if I got delayed returning with injuries at toll gates,
this can surely make her laugh and forget. a wonderful flower t'is surely against all life's regrets"
Seeing all this unfolding, others joyfully followed suit. one, two, three, four...
when fixed number of bloooms were not enough
they split the stolen petals to steal more...
Reymon chuckled on his way back to aetherius though with slight discomfort,
for he has twisted his ankle and bruised his shin, near the footfall of hills whence he returned.
waterlogged his mantle by cold dews hanged on stars,
so he dragged it to his home of burning heaven, facing upwards upside down like an unraining cloud.
but midway through heaven's field he became really tired,
and laid it down right there upon cosmic void, and slept upon the indeterminate thicknesses of night.
without any ancient, gigantic shadows obstructing his already dim sight.
O weary Reymon, he was, Lord of the six-petalled Ebonarm.
the obscure ebony-shaver of bitter earth,
and flow of scythe-falcata in tomorrow's heaven, O and the taker of yesterday's joy, O and the constant life-handler
the unknown left-unknown blade-scintilla of the high and glorious
*scythe-falcata: Gladius Hispaniensis
