Does the baker bake broken bottles?
Tell her, that they are much splinters,
the glazier's resin can't hold.
Where is the mansory,
on whose chisel were faulted?
Tell her, the smith's furnace,
had begot cold impotent ash.
Where is religion,
that carries good morals?
Tell her, she lost her backing wrapper.
Where is the veil,
that covered sin?
Tell her, they was an huricane.
O! Where is the tomb,
that haboured dead?
Tell her, the saved saviour lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem