Should lanterns shine,
the arid ghoul
an octagon of unnaccustomed light,
No wither up, no hope of shape
No look before he grows to grace
The features in privacy
From his lids, no faded pigment willow
Not formed, let the (false) day come
Should lanterns shine, should I guide you through
I have been told to reason by heart
And hope like heart, leads to pulse
I have been told to reason by pulse
When it quickens, to be tight
Paddock, meadow lie loose
So fast to move defying
Even the rich guy, even so the millionaire
Whose wind wags in me
So fast he heard telling, so fast he heard my feeling
And tellings see a chance
(Stomper, thrown in - So fast I love the quiet genleman)
Should I guide you trough
Should I guide you trough
The ball has reached the ground
Should I guide you trough
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem