In silence,
Fires burn upon the plain,
fear under cover again,
pheasants hide,
fearing falcons of the sky,
fear the fire drawing neigh,
watchers close.

Vie for view,
Of general on his horse,
Down the center of the coarse,
Flames narrow,
The general draws his bow,
Fire fear pheasant must go,
To take wing.

Holding back
Then flight races to the wings,
Bow, slings arrow quickly brings
Strikes pheasant,
Up it soars, escape to fly,
Rising high still rising high,
Watchers gasp.

Red plumage
And the arrow shaft of white
Arcing almost out of sight,
Arcs downward,
Tumult of feathers drifting
General head back laughing,
In triumph.

Officers
Congratulate him his deed,
Bright feathers before his steed,
Stands steady.