The poor gentry are ready,
For punishment and prize,
Reading and studying is their job,
And I am mad to the duty of God.
The smashing of stain-glassed windows
Makes me mad like meadows of cruelty,
Of the bishops I see secular activities.
The poor strong wine is at my brain,
Both measures support me,
I have sent my armies
And rode the waves smiling at me.
The archbishop is angry like waves
Of the miraculous kind.
We have been corrupted
And swallowed by a whale!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nailed this poem is amazing