There is a serpent that hides in the damp,
of a lipped cavern,
long, moist and venomous its known as the tongue,
It can kill like a sharpened sword
and draw not a drop of blood,
weaves the air of which we depend and spins a silken word,
to the ears of another heard,
its venom travels as a wave,
in forms of barbed syllables it hisses from its cave,
some who have minds unheard,
are but to it a traitorous slave,
and no serpents words shall meet a heart,
once ears are put to grave,
for sounds are best when heard as positive sound,
a fact invisible as music, just like the truth told by Bells
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem