Even then and always
Then, sure God existed, there he was and had beam.
So Pope said “he has will…:
As Heav'n's blest beam turns vinegar more sour.”
But who bought, who stood?
Then Voltaire, and Russo; then after and still…
“What is right, what is root? ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem