At twilight
Stars twinkles
Brisk winkles
Beauty bristles
All getting brittle
Hope so little
How then is the risible
To solve the riddle?
Oh! Sons of riffle
Arise and buckle
Let the horse, saddled
And not be feeble
For the future not to rumble.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem