I'm doing well with tales to tell
From not so distant lands
I've a soul to sell but don’t fancy hell
So I'll keep it in my hands.
Maybe I'll share a little but
Never with the devil that stirs
Nightmares in the dream realm,
Yet to keep you warm I would
Run the fires of hell, as Prometheus
Stealing fire from the Gods I would
Run, carrying the flames of the sun
To keep you warm from the cold.
But would you allow it or would
You strive into fire by your own accord?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem