My hands were stained with blood, my heart was
proud and cold,
My soul is black with shame . . . but I gave Shakespeare gold.
So after aeons of flame, I may, by grace of God,
Rise up to kiss the dust that Shakespeare's feet have trod.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant composition. Joyce Kilmer tragically died in France in 1918 killed by a snipers bullet. What a waste for such a talented, gifted soul. What could have been.....