In the cover of darkness,
He leaps into the trees,
Feathers flapping, flying through the air,
25! No 50! No 100 men are a chasing!
Arrows fly by, hitting branches, trunks, and trees,
Dodging them, he flies with little effort, and with the greatest of ease.
Taking from the rich and giving to the needy,
It's hard to say, "He is greedy."
For, he keeps not one coin for himself,
He grabs or slides it, right off the shelf,
Throwing it, spreading it all around,
All the people come rushing, running to the ground,
Where he gives it to others,
But not showing his face,
And yet, all he calls everyone sisters and brothers,
Even from anothe