It's fine hand rung.
Around the neck of keys.
The answers were locked.
So, it did not plea.
It rang its tongue to flee.
It fled unto the nights young.
It's pain relieved.
It's strength freed.
The nights plea.
Its binding evervine.
For it's set free.
Its kingdom come.
Its child brings oddity.
Oddities profound love proclaimed.
Unto wanderers wonderful blame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem