My fiend is waiting,
For his next meal,
And his mouth salivates.
Grendel, the condemned,
Too proud to send,
His dam to follow him as he activates.
Sleep my friendly fiend,
I will bring you your meat,
And you will dine like Beowulf.
As his head in your cave,
A mark of your slave,
Will leave Hrothgar aloof.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem