Whether you are straight like the rays of light,
Or shadowed by the meaner sort of mighty man,
My arrow is forbidden and its sting is of fire and art.
The pains of a stage are those strong aspirations
So bold, and beheading is bolder than the bold;
Form our lines and rows in those innocent men of old.
Those with strong dangers must fight inwardly, outwardly,
And strongly like the dragons and monsters of the
Underworld, the world where darkness digs as a weapon.
The menace is stronger in the shadows of this place,
Toward the harbour we float, training our boldness,
Forming the trails of distinguished minstrelsy and music.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem