Take your heat then. Sink and set.
Let babes wail through the night.
Bring on the darkness cold and wet
And let their swelling bellies fight
The pain of hunger born to them;
While the butcher ends his carving
And the mother begs at the regal hem
As the babes lay wan and dying.
Let sleep come fast and may they dream
Of bellies full with chunks of bread;
Whilst on their journey through the night
They travel with the newly dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem