MINE enemy is growing old,
I have at last revenge.
The palate of the hate departs;
If any would avenge,
Let him be quick, the viand flits,
It is a faded meat.
Anger as soon as fed is dead;
'T is starving makes it fat.
I have at last revenge. The palate of the hate departs; hatred, , unsatisfied and satisfied in avenge, tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Let him be quick, the viand flits, It is a faded meat. Anger as soon as fed is dead; 'T is starving makes it fat. Anger is dead. a very fine poem. tony