Commerce my friends; held without air,
and modern day spoils, purge against.
Such beasts to rhyme, lanced blood begot,
and effort boils from life denied each man.
From salt a cure to hide 'Latin' it's manifesto,
and at sea the bird is no longer our friend.
Commerce my friend;
I know too deep thy dredge,
and fear lies deep as sleep...
upon your oceans, shores.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem