Sing, old man, those true songs of fire,
Songs that were too old for this air
Before you yourself were ever born.
Hammer those words against the night
As, once, you struck at the forge,
Feeling the sting of sparks
Cry out in triumph from its fierce iron.
Let the feet of the dancers play them too,
Your anguished words, your dark-throated songs:
Hammers against the fire within,
Fire against night, night against despair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As an X Christian I feel that this poem is a non starter. A collection of sublime words not really belonging in any thinking order. Revealing the dark side of wordsmithery' But keep writing. It comes in the end.