On this very day I gather thy,
for all to hear my solemn plea,
that with the wind's mighty roar,
Hell will open its iron door.
As wrath will be felt,
our very souls will begin to melt,
as you will clasp that iron gate,
and on your knees will be left to fate.
So I beg of thy,
to please hear out my plea,
since only honesty's light prevails,
and everything else against sin will fail.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem