Wounds, bruises and putrefying sores!
Like the seed of evildoers;
But, laid aside is the garment of love,
So, let is not tear it but cast lots for it.
Teat, tear!
With the muse of the Police Officer around;
Tea, teat!
Like a stumbling block;
But, let us rather cast lots for this lovely garment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem