Hamlet's father was in gross state of sin
When Claudius murdered him.
His soul, not being purified by confession,
Live by prosperous abundance in Sodom.
Now he is playing on desert plains
Conscience chasing the guilt and stains,
Being a Phantom cloud wandering on earth,
The prince of Denmark confronted death.
When tragedy of love twisted in his grasp
The heart wearing a mask began to gather dust.
Restless spirit that would not let him sleep,
Desire carried Ophelia deeper into the deep.
The silent place was so wet and grey,
He could not converse with the wind in the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem