My love, wake up, the drums are coming near,
Our army waits, their catapults are drawn,
The gate is sealed, the moat's bridge hoisted clear,
Our seers have warned about this blood-drenched dawn:
Should fate be worst, your asp in basket waits,
My page has sword, unsheathed by his side,
Our noble fathers, gloried in these traits,
Not to surrender, but to die with pride:
Now, bid the shepherd swains to come and dance,
The bards, the jesters, spice the merriment,
We'll win, but then, we all can die, but once,
So while this threat, like none is imminent:
......For we're in fortress, safe from all that harms,
......We are enclosed, we're in each other's arms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem