The sorcerer spins around,
There will be times when sounds
Spin into ashes and fire is transferred,
Like the licking flames always in view.
He squints at you with some small eyes,
Lurking behind them are kings and queens.
He has been the folly of a thousand eyes,
Receiving under battle the souls of these eyes.
You hear a crack and suddenly around spins
A goblin, wounded by your banditry
After collapsing, within the souls.
The sorcerer spins around one more time;
As he does this point of action,
You hear the sudden cracks of the wall
Leaving you in distress that differs.
Much is suspense in the hall of mighty oceans,
As water seeps in so hardly well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem