In Thessalia
Sorceresses chant
Whilst prosemen rant
In prosopopeia
Away from axioms
Witches find their meed
Athame is I, they need
Devoid of urban maxims
Black deadpan face
Perchance see I
A twinkling eye
Neath black cloak and lace
Statesmen fear
The Witches of Thessaly...................and so they should
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem