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(automatic Russian to English translation)

Spartan Poet Tyrtaios:

It is beautiful when a brave man of the front ranks falls and dies, battling for his homeland, and ghastly when a man flees planted fields and city and wanders begging with his dear mother, aging father, little children and true wife. He will be scorned in every new village, reduced to want and loathsome poverty; and shame will brand his family line, his noble figure. Derision and disaster will hound him. A turncoat gets no respect or pity; so let us battle for our country and freely give our lives to save our darling children. Young men, fight shield to shield and never succumb to panic or miserable flight, but steel the heart in your chests with magnificence and courage. Forget your own life when you grapple with the enemy. Never run and let an old soldier collapse whose legs have lost their power. It is shocking when an old man lies on the front line before a youth; an old warrior whose head is white and beard is gray, exhaling his strong soul into the dust, clutching his bloody genitals in his hands--an abominable vision, foul to see--his flesh naked. But in a young man all is beautiful when he still possesses the shining flower of lovely youth. Alive he is adored by men, desired by women, and finest to look upon when he falls dead in the forward clash. Let each man spread his legs, rooting them in the ground, bite his teeth into his lips, and hold.