I am confident, they say a sword is
just a sword, but that is not really true
when I draw great Excalibur it hiss,
gleams with a silver-blue kind of strange hue,
without any type of wavering
cuts right through bronze and iron, slices on
and it is a very strange kind of thing
all my fears and doubts of battle are gone;
as it came right out of the hardest stone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem