Poem 546

In plain words

At the end of the left arm, what is this gleaming white disc? They tie it on with a leather strap and let it dangle; what get-ups are these, friend! Guises not fit for the eye to look at; what get-ups are these, friend! They shave off the long moustaches and clip them, and keep just four by the nose; what get-ups are these, friend!