Now from Season my Shaken Spices bland
When the Lord by his Crown consumed for the Win
Bannered Prince - so much one's Hours demand
Since then my Gold Taels transmute into Sin
But Minutes begat the Heart's Flavour still
Cherish the Roll a-cross one's Move beyond
Nipped by Mites allow his Tribute re-fill
That Lillies soon wither their Omens abscond
By Chanters rule; Soon Devotion thrice Bare,
Feign this Knight betray his Code with a Cross
That Lesson a Moral learned by his Dare
Since such Calamity heal from my Loss.
There, Preppy Honours when Chivalry fly
Expect my Tea's Dues spent then and there-by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem