I was many and many ages ago,
In a notion beside the word,
That a mighty giant fought with words
That you know from misery of reading and perusal.
There experiments took place by the giant
Called Archer Main, a man of a giant;
And this giant he lived with no other reason
Than to adorn the skies and land.
For a while the giant lost its weapon of words,
Forcing blows against dragons and distress;
A gale rushed forth, rivers of milk flowed
Into the valley from the snowy mountains.
My beautiful giant faced many ages of trouble,
Blowing out tragedy,
But also craziness and insanity,
A wind also blew the house of his limbs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem