When the Angel of the North came forth
It battled icy rain
Already rusted in its joints
It could not feel the pain
So upright in its posture
With legs locked to the ground
When sleet and snow attacked it
It did not make a sound
Its rivets are unbending
Its boots are made of steel
With shoulders ratchet-rigid
And a heart that cannot feel
With wings outstretched, pre-frozen,
It takes the winter’s bite
With gaze fixed to horizon
Oblivious to its plight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem