I went out in the morning,
went out in the dew.
Stepped in an epic,
and it stuck to my shoe.
I ran in a circle,
"Oh my what to do,
with this pesky old epic,
now sticking like glue.".
I went to the wise man,
to see if might be,
relief for the epic,
the shoe, and for me.
He said, "Settle down!
Walk softly with care,
for epics are precious,
and epics are rare.
You've come for advice,
so here's what to do,
watch where you're going,
stay out of the dew.
My council is free,
as free as can be.
But I need something to read,
so the shoe stays with me.".
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem