Answer:
Who is it that rows quickly with four oars, but never comes out from under his own roof?
Walk on the living, they donโt even mumble, Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble. What are they?
The sharp slim blade, that cuts the wind.
A dragons tooth in a mortals hand, I kill, I maim, I divide the land.
Upon me you can tread, though softly under cover. And I will take you places, that you have yet to discover. I'm high, and I'm low, though flat in the middle. And though a joy to the children, adults think of me little.
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?