Not Once upon a Time
but in actual Fact,
You did It Yourself,
or hired a Guy,
to hold a smoky Light
to guide You through the Night;
and You came to hold as quaint,
that the Moon was Saint
to Scrooge and Beggar alike,
for She didn't show
and You don't need a Poet to know.
But a Poet might show,
that smoky Light is not as saintly as the Moon's,
and, predict that Light from Pipes and Wires,
when its Time has passed,
will not be as saintly as Light from smoky Fires,
and, behold the End of the Saint.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem