Deep is the root of the tree.
It does not reach in there by the frost.
The Spelling of it.
Has it not been by you broken.
Although you have him between,
put in place by you where the dawn.
The fire awakes from the ash.
And by her own good light,
that such a spell.
That I write of from the deep.
Comes his shadow how it leaps from the wall.
Be it a blade.
Which is renewed and has by her been broken.
The king who went crownless.
And where for the second time by his
is presumed to be here.
Coming again unto him there she is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem