July eighteenth in 64’
Of the Common Era
Play Nero, play upon the lyre
While Rome Is fed into the fire
At the Circus near the Palatine
in some shops began the fire
You looked on impassively
And played upon your lyre
You sang about” The Sack of Troy”
The Trojans funeral pyre
While portions of your palace
Were themselves consumed by fire
Three Quarters of the city gone
The fire raged for days
Casualties kept mounting
as the Romans fought the flames.
You blamed the Christians for the deed
The lions lunched for days
You built yourself the house of gold
Upon the pauper's graves
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem