I am not mad!
I am not mad, Help me!
Free me, I'm just a little bard
Writing lines, As you know me to be
Throw, O bestial devil, Throw!
Your machete, Your kegs, Your sace,
Roll, You bloody witches, Roll;
Roll and throw, Your fiery axe and mace
For I'm betrayed and tied up by love
And my mockers barks at me as dogs
My friends with jests round streets, Rove
Untie me, lest i go down the bogs
When worlds, mourn a lad in his prime,
That lost his life as wilted-reed afore spring-time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem