Certain, ye not can fight it for me
For If tempest could fall a sturdy oak;
Thy oath to hold it for me?
But wilt clay long live than a crack?
Dotes in waves, sweeties in gusts
This olden planet once forbidden
And withno giving a kiss to crusts?
Not for me, for 'Twast fore-written!
I may survive not b'witched hex,
I may die on noon ye away from home,
That mournful journey upto land of dead Rex;
Shall open mine sins, en fiends upon rome,
Who frove as foe, will share my owed debts,
Weep not as nights will pardon my guilts.
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I would like to translate this poem