This evening soul that must can go....
To trail the nail and scratch thy face.
Fear as is must displace...
To win won race and just to show.
Just to have is as must we go...
For the evening soul that must want know.
What great chance doe'st thee bestowe? ...
Yet what chance yet doe'st thee snow?
We've writ a poem to let thee know...
As of yet do tell we know?
Shall'st we be as if to know? ...
How long to go before be old?
Shall'st we know how and if we be so bold? ...
Thank God Almighty that time done sold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent write Mike..........well done...