to goodness shall be repaid in kind,
and to evil, a double measure of it
for the heart knows no arche greater,
that burns with fury,
than it of a man’s hurting passions
love and it’s ties
that binds-
but wrath, pray thee
that it’s sting upon thee doth find
which burns, with fury untold
ah, me, the traveler
that sees of men’s passions
and what they fashion-
each to a bag of tools,
and that it does best, would.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem