I’m wondering to ask
What comes out the cask
Is that something holy
To keep high in glory
A combination of mold and meat
An incarnation of hold and heat
Which is cast into an alien world
Is the creation really in hand of Lord
He who set each player a role
Someone as a noble, someone as a mole
Someone in bountiness, immersed in bless
Someone is penniless, looking for a dress
Someone is born in a heavenly palace
Yet another in a stock of harass
Someone in the age of warmth and peace
Someone is laid young by a wreath
Someone with a pair of wing
Someone malborn unable to sing
Still, I’m wondering to ask
What comes out the cask
Is that something holy
To keep high in glory
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem