Even Today Did I Try Too Do; Too you.
While Solomon and hot spears are tossed,
some Brute of Yours too Hannibal.
The spear points that shaft,
tips off against wide plains of sweet reason.
Do not speak of seasons to me,
it's just treason you seek to spread.
Moist marshy grounds, unaided no hounds.
I trampled down and muddied the water.
The sword points sharp against your breast,
Your unguarded, the broad phalanx did part.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow this is one powerful piece of writing. I wish I had one fourth only, of your standing vocabulary. It seems almost medieval, and the imagery almost pains one..