The gauntlet strikes a noble pose
striking the ground with great repose.
Adorned with gold and amber stones
luring all passers with gem covered bones.
Aye, to pick up such a treat
would leave the owner sitting sweet;
and long after the taste has worn
a debt incrues, that day was born.
Ever more debt will be owed,
until death or decree part the stones
Pillars, ashes at the feet
the Gauntlet looks awfully sweet.
Silken threads whisper in air
Hope, yes Hope does lie there.
A morsel taken from bread trail left
the path less worn, and heavy of breath.
Glimmering hope, the spinner cast
Will bait be taken without
sinking the cast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem