Hear! The saintly bells ring
Again and again the choirs sing
Lost for words, they are of course
For beauty like this can be no remorse
Shine, shine, my fellow men
For the sword has become mightier than pen
See now yourself in bright leather lore
Let the blade of hell pierce skin..nevermore
Oh, quite quaint I call my mistress maid
To come with me and watch daylight fade
Oh, how lovely to view the sunset play
Within the arms of an angel in May
In the May, the month of May
So much can happen I cannot say
But Spring turns against my keen eye
It turns to April, and soon dies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem