In the name of Word
I shall prison thee not Lord
In a dungeon dead and cold
Where shall I bargain thine hold?
On an iron land?
An artful strand of thine hand
Or in thy Command? Yet word,
Shall hearken not thy code
Then, I shall not spake of Thee
Whiles nothing hath ever sprung to be
Oh aye nothing, so for my tongue free
Alas, there is too much of langue in me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem