When ink in black was called at once
The pen was the judge to do the stunts
With his wig, he swirls the troops of words
He raised the hammer and they look like swords
The papers were trembling and they proclaim
The judgment and point out the blame
they were mused by the pen and his way
and the funny order for that day and every day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem