hear the rhythm beat: the verse,
the erect Poet-Seer
the night, the stars and
as a diadem stands the servient
moon:
hear the Poet Seer my Monsignor
he's growing hoarse of late
on singing a few tens of verses
but in his singing
whilst he sings erect
the fires wild that burnt in youth
as in youth burn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem