They didn't work, but garnering no wage
Levied the patronage of court and king-
Deeming song too rich or poor a thing
For market barter, they composed their page
For free, in Poesy's glittering, gilt-edged tome,
Knowing well the heavens would laugh from harm
The wine-soaked jerkin and the hill-cleft farm
And furnish for the table ample crumb.
Each was a fool for love, if truly bard,
Believing love the brightest bane of all,
But studied war, and none to serve was chary.
Each feared the Gods, but taxed them not too hard.
In friendship's favor, each was prodigal-
None died too young and none could brook to marry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem