In the long hall
a long table
tall and elongated
yet wide
the widening not conspicuous
because tall indeed the
table:
in the long hall
the cries of skeletons
and ghosts and shrouds
raising their mugs of wine
and ales
boiling and steaming
shrieking
with their teeth rattling
not now mourning
there were so many
by the thousand you
would count
and the more you viewed
more increased the amount
of tipsy ghosts and shrouds
and skeletons
of the Long Table.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem