never was he a wrestler
but he fought well with his heart
until he yelled his pain:
yea! my hip's been pulled out apart
but still he fought on
as if he's drunk with red wine
it's already daybreak then
yea! my hip, he yelled at him
he fought till his last
and got a reward that last on
because with his weak limb
he fought with an angel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem