There was nothing special about me
and my simple tombstone quickly crumbled.
But without daring to realise it myself
I was one of the thirty-six righteous men
who cause God to let the world stay alive.
I was a blacksmith and was happy to see
the children flocking round me rejoicing
in the showers of sparks around the anvil.
My horseshoes they all had back home.
But I refused to forge a sword
for a nobleman who had his serfs flogged
and I was put in fetters I myself had forged.
I will spare you what followed.
You never got any words of wisdom from me.
For that I was too poor in spirit.
What I taught was good smithwork.