O brother! .
O brother! .
Up till now as I write.
Your memory live as my ink.
Help me tell the Ghost abroad.
Or the sullied kings of the dead.
It is six year you were waylaid.
By the black angels of the day.
Woe! death on the earth.
Bow thee before the Mighty! .
But brother, be not pained
My heart do not pull off me.
For you had sucked the vinegar.
The diabolic, proudly prepared.
And now, you are better, peace abound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem